


Stolen

by grimmlin



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vikings, Angry Castiel (Supernatural), Angst with a Happy Ending, Castiel Whump (Supernatural), Cultural Differences, DeanCas - Freeform, Destiel - Freeform, Enemies to Lovers, Hurt Castiel (Supernatural), It Gets Better, Language Barrier, M/M, Minor Character Death, Misunderstandings, Monk Castiel (Supernatural), Non-Con/Rape Outside of Castiel/Dean Winchester, POV Alternating, Protective Dean Winchester, Protective Sam Winchester, Slow Burn, Viking Dean Winchester, angst and hurt, dark beginning, sabriel if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2020-10-10 15:59:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 17
Words: 110,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20530679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grimmlin/pseuds/grimmlin
Summary: When Castiel first saw the green-eyed stranger in the woods, he never imagined that he would find himself bound to the man and forced onto a boat, stolen away with his brothers from everything they’ve ever known. Dean is a brute, gruff and dangerous. Castiel wants so badly to hate him. Norsemen have a terrible reputation and Dean seems to be no different. But, for reasons unknown, Dean seems bent on protecting Cas instead of harming him as Cas had expected. When Cas sees Dean’s sword, he knows there is more to Dean and his brother than meets the eye.





	1. The Raid

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my newest project and thank you for giving it a chance. This story is 100% written and will be updated weekly.
> 
> I want to address my warnings for this work in the beginning. This fic takes place during the (not necessarily historically accurate) Viking era. Blood and violence happens. Also, one instance of rape occurs in chapter two and only in chapter two. Neither Dean or Sam are involved other than delivering vengeance. Use your judgment to determine what is best for you. If you have concerns, I will be happy to answer your questions about the content.

Dean stares at the horizon, studying the shapes and shadows of the monastery that slowly comes into focus. His green eyes dart quickly over the low towers, scanning each window with purpose, reviewing their plans to seek out flaws and undue risks. His thoughts are busy calculating every detail for the hundredth time.

“Still your mind, brother.” A heavy hand settles on Dean’s shoulder and the man turns his head to take in his best friend’s gentle blue eyes.

Dean takes a deep breath of the warm and heavy air, trying to heed Benny’s advice and calm his churning thoughts. His tongue darts out to moisten his chapped lips and he tastes the ever-present salt that has settled over his skin from several weeks on the water. “I’m glad you’re here,” He mutters quietly so as not to break the blissful calm and Benny’s fingers flex comfortingly on Dean’s shoulder.

“We’re ready, you’re ready,” Benny says, just as quietly with an easy smile.

Dean nods, forcing himself to trust in his friend. Benny is right, they are as ready as they will ever be. The real threat to his focus is the memory that spurs him to search every window in quiet curiosity, maybe even with lingering hope, of who maybe be asleep beyond those darkened windows.

A flash of bright blue eyes and messy dark hair forms in his mind. Dean had been the one who nearly loosed his arrow, mistaking the monk’s brown robes for the hide of a deer. Had the man not turned when he had, Dean surely would have ended his life.

And yet the monk had apologized to Dean in a gravel rough voice that sent a shiver down Dean’s spine. The language he spoke was one Dean barely recognized. He hadn’t heard much of the Saxon language since he was a young boy and those memories have been buried so long that Dean has nearly forgotten.

The monk steadied his unearthly blue gaze on Dean and slowly held out a hand, offering Dean a portion of his foraged mushrooms from the large wicker basket he carried.

Dean had searched his memory for the right words, swallowing hard before he whispered with hesitation brewing in his stomach. “Gratitude,” Dean mumbled as he reached for the offering, certain he had chosen the wrong word.

The monk had offered him a pleased and serene smile. His calm gaze exuded kindness and instilled a sense of peace Dean hasn’t felt since he was too small to fully remember. Dean’s heart nearly skittered to a stop in his chest as the man had nodded before turning and heading off in the opposite direction, toward the monastery Dean’s party was prepared to raid.

Dean hopes, wants even, for the man from the forest to be sleeping within the shuttered and walled monastery. Dean has already decided that should he see those shocking blue eyes this morning, the man will become his. No one shall touch him, no one who wishes to live will bring the monk harm.

As the boats silently beach themselves on the narrow patch of sand, his warriors unload and gather their weapons while Dean takes a deep breath to settle his thoughts and clear his mind.

The time has come.

He stands upon the rocky shore and draws his heavy longsword. His brother, Sam, and Benny take their places at his side and join him in surveying the eager faces before them.

Dean clears his throat, preparing himself. He is not a man of great speeches. His people do not need such eloquence when action and strength are the characteristics that gain respect and loyalty but he feels this situation calls for something.

“The Valkyries are here, Odin is here, watching us today,” Dean says firmly, raising his voice so that everyone can hear. “Some of us may not live to see another moon, but not one among us shall shrink away from the honor of death! Go forward, you all know why we are here. For Laugar! For Valhalla!” Dean yells, each word gaining volume as he raises his sword high over his head. The Wyvern carved into the blade glints in the early dawn light and the warriors around him join in with their excited shouts and cheers.

“For Valhalla!” The horde shouts back in a coordinated echo of Dean’s words, ensuring the monks within hear their calls to battle. Dean grins as he turns toward the monastery, the adrenaline begins to flood his body at the first sound of the monk’s warning bells. But they’re too late. The men inside will not stand a chance against Dean and his warriors.

The heavy English oak doors begin to groan shut, but the Vikings wedge their ram between them and keep the gap from closing as they rush inside.

“Northmen! Northmen!” Panicked shouts rise, giving way to screams as the warning bells chime, the frantic clanging fills the air to heighten the thrill of battle. Monks scurry to hide and flee and Dean laughs at their cowardice.

“Will none of you defend yourselves?!” He shouts at their retreating backs as he strides forward, intending to enter the towering stone building with Sam and Benny at his side. His Jarl’s goal, Dean’s test, is to lead this raid and pillage for gold and other treasures to add to his family’s wealth.

Sam stays at Dean’s side, as a good brother should, knocking aside monks who beg and plead with them in a language that brings only the tickle of a memory but little understanding.

“Out of the way!” Sam growls, shoving aside a balding monk and throwing him against the tall, wooden, crucifix that looms over the entryway of the monastery, sending both man and cross tumbling to the floor.

“Sam!” Dean snaps, not seeing the need to harm those too cowardly to fight back and defend themselves. These men fear death, they do not deserve the honor of dying in service to the gods. Dean turns to the monk and drags him to his feet with a firm fistful of his brown robes and presses him bodily against the wall.

“Where is the gold?” Dean says, voice dropping to a demanding growl as he applies pressure to the man’s throat.

The monk looks at him with wide-eyed confusion before he glances between the three Viking men. The man’s eyes widen in blind fear and he trembles in Dean’s grip but remains quiet aside from his terrified whimpers.

“Let him go!” A rough and dangerously low voice comes from behind the trio and Dean grins as he turns to face the monk belonging to that sinful voice. He doesn’t need to understand the words to recognize the man’s tone.

Dean’s grin turns feral as he takes in the man before him and he releases the trembling monk with a shove. Piercing blue eyes are narrowed into a vicious glare and the monk’s square jaw is set firm. Dean’s heart leaps at the sight of him and his fierce countenance, so different from what Dean had seen in the forest.

His monk is brave.

Dean knows now that he made no mistake in wanting this man for his own.

“Castiel, no,” The older monk says, panic laced in his tone as he stares down the hall toward the younger man.

Castiel brandishes a heavy wooden paddle as a weapon as if a cooking implement could save him from the sharp edge of Dean’s sword.

Sam laughs, swinging his ax playfully at the monk as he closes the distance between them. “At least one of you is brave,” Sam says in perfect English, a result of his years of study.

Dean scowls at the words that leave his brother’s mouth, but he feels a tinge of jealousy and regret. If he had bothered to study with Sam, he would be able to speak with this Castiel. He quickly steps across the narrow space and wrenches his brother back with a growl. “He’s mine,” Dean says in their Norse language, making his intent toward the monk clear.

Sam arches a brow at his brother. “This the monk from the woods?” He asks in Norse, letting his curiosity show with a slight tilt of his head.

The monks look between them, the old man with terror etched in his features as Benny holds him hostage and the younger with a determined glare that suddenly lights with recognition. “You,” He gasps, staring at Dean.

Dean answers with a wolfish grin. “Tell me, Christian, will you show us where you feeble men keep your treasures?” He asks slowly, hoping the monk knows at least some Norse.

Castiel looks taken aback, affronted even, before he takes a foolish step toward Dean. “No.” The single Norse word falls from his lips as an insult and his blue eyes blaze with righteous fury.

“Brother, please. Let them take what they will,” The older monk pleads and staggers toward Dean. “Here, please. This way,” He says in English that Dean does not understand but Sam intervenes, gesturing for the older monk to come to him.

“Kelvin, no!” Castiel yells, rushing toward Sam with his paddle raised and ready to strike.

Dean swats the piece of wood away with his sword, only to have Castiel turn to him with murder in his gaze.

The monk swings violently, too quickly to be prepared, and Dean strikes back with an amused laugh. The paddle cracks in half under the force from Dean’s sword and the pieces fly from Castiel’s hands before the monk can change his course. The makeshift weapon has barely landed on the floor with a clatter when Dean has the sharp edge of his sword pressed against Castiel’s bare throat.

“Enough,” Dean growls, pressing lightly against the soft skin, just enough for a thin trail of crimson to appear.

Castiel’s eyes widen and a small gasp passes his lips but he doesn’t flinch, he only stares at Dean with narrowed eyes and a scowl that has Dean letting out a pleased hum.

Dean reaches forward and grips the monk’s arm tightly, spinning him so that Dean presses up against his back with his sword still trained on the soft skin of Castiel’s throat.

Castiel jerks and spins, catching Dean by surprise as he breaks free. A thin line of red wells across his neck and he wipes the blood away with a growl. “Don’t touch me!” He bites in an insulted tumble before spitting on the ground in disgust.

The words are unfamiliar to Dean’s ears, but the tone does not. He takes a moment to study his adversary with a quirked lip, the barest of amused smirks. The monk’s firm jaw, his narrow nose, and sharp cheekbones provide a perfect setting for those ethereal blue eyes and slightly shaggy dark hair. In the dim torchlight, Castiel’s hair appears black, but Dean knows better. The deep chestnut brown hair catches the sun beautifully. This man’s existence is a testament to the gods. Perfection in the physical form.

The fire burning in the monk’s eyes would be lethal if mortals were granted the powers of the gods. Lightning could strike Dean where he stands and he might not have the will to complain if only he could keep Castiel’s attention.

Castiel is beautiful in his brave and foolish defiance.

“I have no wish to harm you,” Dean says evenly despite knowing that the monk won’t understand him. He fixes the man with a firm glare, a silent order to stay out of their way before he turns his back on the blue-eyed monk and gestures for Kelvin to lead the way.

The Norse brothers turn to follow Kelvin and Dean signals for Benny to head the opposite direction on the chance that the older monk is lying to them. Dean dismisses Castiel with barely a thought. The monk stands unarmed against Dean’s sword and Sam’s ax. He has no chance against them.

They move quietly with Sam holding his ax at the ready. The sounds of the raid echo through the halls but their cohort has yet to progress this deep into the monastery.

Their goal is to subdue the monks and send those who choose to fight to meet their pathetic god. Only once the monks are contained and the outer walls protected are any beyond Dean and Sam to enter the inner chambers.

By now, the first wave of Dean’s warriors should be searching the outer halls for gold and jewels. The Christians are too fond of throwing riches to an absent god while allowing their people starve. Dean has no doubt they will find the treasure they seek.

“I will not let you steal from the Lord!” Castiel’s gravel rough voice yells from behind the trio of men. Sam and Dean turn to see him running toward them, brandishing a torch ripped from the wall of the long hallway, his dark brown robes billow behind him as he runs on his sandaled feet.

Dean rolls his eyes at the sight. While he quietly admires the man’s tenacity, he is growing tired of his refusal to admit defeat. “Stop this foolishness, Christian,” Dean says, letting his annoyance bleed into his tone.

Castiel continues toward them, undeterred, with a fierce sneer etched on his features. Dean stows his sword and drops into a ready crouch, waiting for the monk to come to him. He can’t help his desire to get his hands on the beautiful man, if only for a moment.

Dean lunges as Castiel swings his torch, the rush of flame whooshes harmlessly past Dean’s ears as he aims his shoulder for Castiel’s middle.

Castiel loses his balance as Dean tackles him to the ground and pins him in a rough grip. Dean grins down into Castiel’s furious blue eyes.

Dean stares for another moment and smirks at the monk’s ire before he pushes up and off, ready to bind the man’s hands and haul him with them. Dean gave him a chance to escape and he chose not to take it.

Castiel quickly pushes to his feet and balls his hands into fists, prepared to swing.

“Enough of this,” Sam growls, raising his ax as if about to cleave the monk’s head in two.

“No!” Dean barks. “He’s mine.”

Sam fixes him with an unimpressed look as he brings the butt of his ax down as Castiel attempts to duck. The blow connects with Castiel’s head and sends the monk toppling to the ground with barely a sound. “Fine,” Sam says with narrowed eyes as he gently prods Castiel’s unconscious form with the toe of his boot. “Collect him later.”

Castiel lays unmoving and Dean drops to his knees at his side, fingers probing against his throat for a sign of life as he glares at his brother. “That was unnecessary,” Dean says with a glare that would send anyone other than Sam running for the hills.

Sam snorts in derision and shakes his head. “You are too distracted,” Sam says, crossing his arms over his chest. “Find him later, we have too much to do right now,” Sam grumbles as he pushes past Dean.

The other monk has long since run, Castiel’s misguided attempts at valor were a worthy diversion, and now the brothers are left on their own to find the sanctuary and treasures.

The victorious shouts of their comrades echo through the monastery as they progress inward to seek the large sanctuary they know should be drawing near.

“You intend to spare that fool?” Sam asks as they round another corner, unchallenged.

Dean nods, schooling his features into feigned indifference. “He’s brave.”

Sam snorts and pushes open yet another heavy oak door. “Then he should meet his god with pride.”

“Not yet,” Dean says with a frown. If he has his way, Castiel will not meet his god for a very long time.

The brothers stop when they cross the threshold of the large chapel. A gleaming, golden, cross stands tall and proud behind a gilded altar.

“Do you remember any of this from before?” Sam asks as he turns to Dean with hesitation in his hazel eyes.

Dean frowns as he considers the space. “Some,” he mutters. He is barely willing to admit that this adventure is bringing back memories long since buried.

The images in his mind are hazy and distant. They are merely memories from the mind of a terrified child. His father, his _real_ father, standing tall and proud before an alter much like this one with a steady hand on each of their young shoulders as they knelt to pray for deliverance. The smoke was thick in the air as their home burned and the terrified screams in the distance had Dean’s young heart racing.

That was when Samuel had burst through the door to the sanctuary and their father had shoved Dean and little Sam behind the alter, telling Dean to “take care of Sammy.”

Dean closes his eyes tightly, willing away the memory of Samuel cutting his father down before coming after them.

Dean had found the courage in his heart to pick up his father’s sword despite being too small to wield the weapon. He stood as tall as he could and stepped around his father’s bloody corpse to challenge the towering Viking.

Dean knew he was no match for an adult, he had only seen six summers, but he was determined to do as he was told and protect his brother or die trying.

Samuel had smiled down at him proudly as he wrested the sword from Dean’s small hands. “Brave boy,” Samuel had said. “Come, my children. We must go home.” He had stood and taken Dean by the hand, beckoning for Sam to come. Dean had screamed and jerked away, running to his brother and Samuel had simply picked them up, one under each arm, and hauled them away.

Dean shakes off the memories and grips his sword tighter as he turns to face his brother. “The Christian god refused to protect our father, but Odin chose to protect us even though we did not yet belong to him. That is what we shall remember,” Dean says with an air of finality. He will not entertain the memories of events he cannot change even if he wanted to.

Sam opens his mouth as if to disagree but decides better of the idea. “Let’s just hurry.”

They quickly gather as many treasures to the center of the room as they can before tearing apart the gilded cross that stands as tall as Dean and adding the pieces to their pile. Dean notices that Sam tucks a small book, no doubt a portion of the Christian Bible, into the pouch at his side when he thinks Dean’s isn’t looking.

Dean lets the act go unremarked. He knows all too well of his brother’s thirst for knowledge. Sam loves to read and his research has served them well on this trip. Sam has a curious mind and Dean will not begrudge him that.

Dean eyes a large leather-bound tome that sits on a plain wooden stand. His rough and grubby fingers caress the fine parchment as he stares down at the words in the same language Sam has been studying for years. They are not familiar to him but he thinks that perhaps it is time he learns. If he is to ever lead his people, he needs to be educated in the matters of Wessex and the Christians who live here.

Dean carefully lifts the holy book from its place and adds it to their pile while ignoring the fond smile the action earns him from Sam.

“Dean! Sam!” Benny’s familiar voice echoes down the corridor and is quickly followed by the clatter of footsteps and weapons trudging closer down the stone hallways.

“Here!” Sam calls as he pokes his head out of the large chapel to signal to their group.

Dean continues to work, breaking the locks off heavy wooden creates to check their worthless contents with muttered disgust. His father will not be pleased. These monks seem to value parchment over gold and this does not bode well for their raid.

Benny follows Sam into the cavernous room with a low whistle of appreciation as he scans the pile in the center of the room.

“There isn’t enough,” Dean grumbles when Benny comes within earshot.

Benny shrugs as he reverently brushes his fingertips over the riches gathered in the center of the space. He snaps his fingers at the warriors behind him to call them to attention from their distracted glances about the room.

Many are bloodstained and wild-looking, long hair braided tightly and damp with sweat from a battle easily fought.

“Take everything out,” Sam orders as he gestures to the loot with a wave of his hand. His premature words prompt a sharp look from Dean and an arched brow from Benny.

The warriors go still and glance to one another and then to Dean nervously as they wait for their leader to put forth the direction. Dean takes a deep breath and nods. “You heard my brother, move!” He says clear and boldly in a tone that allows for no doubt or argument.

Benny gives Sam on more appraising glance before he gathers an armful of loot and leads the remainder of their party from the room.

“There isn’t enough,” Dean says, giving voice to his deeply rooted concern. His verdant eyes scan the bare pews and stone walls holding naught but flaming torches. He shakes his head to try to sooth the yawning pit growing in his stomach.

If their Jarl, the man to took them and raised them as his own, is to be appeased, the lack of golden riches will need to be offset with human treasure.

Sam sucks in a shuddering breath with heavy protest flashing in the depths of his hazel eyes before he nods his agreement. “I understand,” He says with a frown. Dean can see his brother’s resigned displeasure clear in his expression.

Dean knows how much his brother doesn’t approve despite his agreement, but he lets the mutinous gleam in Sam’s eye pass without rebuke. He agrees with his brother, but they have no choice.

Dean straightens his stance and firms his jaw. “We can provide for ten,” Dean says coldly as he turns to seek out Benny.

Benny will oversee gathering the monks for them to select from. The Britons are soft by nature and if Dean must steal some of them away, he will choose those most likely to survive the trials of the north.

If he comes across Castiel on his way out of the monastery, well, that would surely mean that Odin is smiling down on him.

“No sign of the blue-eyed one?” Sam questions his brother with an arched brow when Dean joins him empty-handed. His tone is soft and cautious and Dean knows that Sam doesn’t understand.

“No,” He answers. “His absence is likely for the best,” Dean muses as he carefully packs a heavy chest into the longboat. Dean doesn’t bother to hide his disappointment, but if the gods do not bless him with the monk’s presence then he will accept their judgment.

Sam nods. “For him, I am sure,” He says as he gives his brother a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He leaves the “for you, too,” unspoken but Dean can read the words clearly in Sam’s gaze.

Once the boats are loaded, the brothers join their raiding party near the destroyed gates of the monastery. Nearly three dozen monks kneel on the crushed stone of the road and Dean winces in sympathy at the obvious discomfort of the position. Their hands are bound roughly, some in front of them and some behind as they are forced to kneel on the harsh gravel.

Their expressions contain a mixture of fear, anger, and a few glare defiantly at their Viking captors.

“On your feet!” Dean shouts, gesturing for them to rise. His gut churns with turmoil and acid burns in the back of his throat. He agrees with his brother on the matter of forced servitude. Some men and women commit crimes that have them deserving the shackles of being held in thrall, but these men are innocent as far as Dean knows.

They don’t deserve this.

Dean squares his shoulders and takes a deep breath, preparing himself for what may become the most difficult aspect of this entire raid. He has no choice if he is to be seen worthy in the eyes of his Jarl and his people.

Who to choose and who to spare?

Most of the monks stare at him with wide eyes, not understanding the strange words Dean had shouted at them. Slowly, after another urging hand gesture from Dean, they begin to catch on and push to their feet. They offer one another as much assistance as they can with their hands tied and Dean’s heart twists uncomfortably.

Dean watches them carefully and silently notes of which of the monks began to rise first and which appear to have the steadiest balance. He immediately dismisses the eldest among them and those who appear lame or too stubborn to follow an order that gets them off the harsh ground and into a more comfortable position. He needs men with strong backs and flexible dispositions.

Dean points to one young man with downcast eyes and Benny is quick to haul him to the side. The sandy-haired youth lets out a panicked scream that is quickly silenced by Benny’s hand over his mouth.

“Alfie!” An old, weathered, monk attempts to come to the younger man’s aid but Benny shoves him back roughly and continues to pull the young monk to the side, ignoring the vicious sounding words in a language the Norsemen do not understand. The young man is shoved to his knees in the grass and immediately enveloped by Viking warriors, trapping the trembling monk in an impenetrable circle of men.

The old monk continues to interfere and hisses in displeasure when Benny sends the man crashing to his knees with a swift punch to his stomach. “Silence!” Benny barks, uncaring whether the monks understand him or not. His tone should say enough.

The monk coughs from the punch and a shorter and younger monk lowers himself to his knees to murmur fervently in his elder’s ear before he tucks his slightly too long hair behind his ear and out of his face with his bound hands.

He whispers in the Saxon language as the old man raises his voice in disagreement. His words sound like frantic pleas tinged with anger. Dean waits, curious, as the young monk pushes to his feet once more and turns to his counterparts and raises his voice to speak.

Dean raises a staying hand when Benny glances to him for guidance. “Let’s see where this goes,” Dean says, unsure why his gut instinct says to allow this monk his little speech.

The man’s voice raises clear and steady above the amused chortles from the raiders. To Dean, he sounds like a leader asking something dire of his followers.

Several of the young monk’s eyes widen and they swallow hard as they listen. The Vikings look between one another and the monks with trepidation, uncomfortable with not understanding what is being said.

Only Sam nods along in approval.

Dean wants to question his brother for a translation but his pride prevents the words from being spoken.

Finally, the monk stops speaking and he stares at his brothers expectantly. A few nod and more shake their heads.

The oldest monks beg and plead in protest while some of the younger ones square their shoulders and step forward, stopping at the side of the monk who had delivered his speech.

In total, eight young men join the other’s side before he turns to face Dean. He squares his shoulders and meets Dean gaze with a kind of courage Dean had not expected from these meek men. “You want slaves,” the monk says in perfect Norse.

Dean sees a glimmer of defiance in the monk’s eyes when Dean nods his agreement with a frown.

“Take us. We volunteer. Spare the others,” The monk says clearly despite his accent being a little rough. He stands a head shorter than Dean; his dark blond hair is somewhat longer than most of his brother’s and his honey brown eyes are fierce with determination.

Dean sees no reason to refuse to him. A faint smile twitches at the corner of Dean’s mouth as he steps forward. This monk is brave, and Dean can appreciate that about him. “Very well,” Dean says slowly with a slight nod of acceptance. He gives Benny a small wave, indicating the volunteers, and the man quickly springs into action along with several other of the Viking warriors.

The volunteers are quickly whisked away and loaded into the boats, but their leader remains rooted to the spot, glaring daggers at Dean. “Your name?” Dean questions with a slight cock of his head.

The monk narrows his eyes into a glare, scrutinizing Dean before giving a glance back toward the abbey and his older brethren. “Gabriel,” He finally answers with a frown.

Dean gives the man a predatory grin, upping his bravado as he slings an arm over Gabriel’s shoulders to guide him away. “You speak our language,” Dean says with all the swagger he can muster.

Gabriel stiffens but nods silently.

“I appreciate your assistance,” Dean says as he guides Gabriel to the spot where Sam waits for them to board the boats.

“I did not do it for you,” Gabriel spits, attempting to pull away but Dean holds him fast.

Dean pulls the man tighter, leaning down to whisper in the monk’s ear. “The results remain the same,” He says before shoving Gabriel toward Sam. “You should take this one, brother,” Dean says with a lewd grin even as his stomach twists painfully.

“Dean,” Sam says with a scowl as he narrowly prevents Gabriel from toppling to his knees in the rough gravel. Gabriel pulls away from Sam with a disgusted expression and scowls fiercely at Dean.

Dean shrugs as if his brother’s ire doesn’t bother him. “Would you rather he be claimed by Asmodeus?” Dean challenges and Sam’s expression falls. Dean can see his brother’s warring emotions, fighting between his morality and his soft-hearted concern for the stranger.

If Dean has his way, Asmodeus will not touch any of the new slaves and neither will his sons. No one deserves the sadistic touch those three masterfully wield.

“Very well,” Sam says with a frown as he gently guides Gabriel to the boats. He helps the still bound monk navigate the rocky shore without losing his balance and Dean smiles at his brother’s predictable behavior.

For all his talk during the raid, Sam refuses to have someone else’s pain on his conscience when he can prevent the suffering and Dean knows it. Sam glares at his brother as he drags Gabriel onto their boat and urges him down with a gruff order to sit.

Dean watches as Gabriel and Sam glare at one another and he huffs in amusement. Sam will have his work cut out for him with this one and he’s certain the turmoil might do his brother some good. Gabriel seems intelligent and well educated. Exactly the kind of person Sam would appreciate having around him in his quest to learn everything within the realm of men.

Keeping Gabriel close might benefit them all.

Dean turns to scan the rocky beach one last time in hopes of spying a shock of messy dark hair and vividly blue eyes while the others finish loading.

Something about Cas’ gaze is familiar to Dean though he cannot place why but he has no luck in finding the man. Castiel seems to have vanished into the ether.

“Move out!” Dean gives the order as he grips the edge of his boat and begins to push at the bow with several other men and women. Benny quickly joins Dean’s side and they collectively shove off the beach for the half-day journey to camp.

Once the cool water reaches his knees, Dean heaves himself into the boat and takes his place at the helm. His scrutinizing gaze sweeps over his people and the newly acquired slaves. They are all under Dean’s leadership now. The weight of responsibility sits heavy across his shoulders but he accepts the burden as the inevitable consequence of picking up his father’s sword so many years ago. He was groomed to lead from that point forward, maybe even from the moment he was born. 

Dean lifts his chin high and directs the boats onward. The north winds will guide them on their journey, and he offers a quick prayer to Aegir for safe passage on his seas.


	2. Camp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and his raiding party set up camp and an opportunity arises that he cannot ignore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *waves arms dramatically* The archive warnings I've selected for this story are both largely due to this chapter. Keep that in mind and proceed according to what is best for you.

Dean’s small raiding party works together seamlessly to make the boats glide through the water while the young monks stare toward shore with a mixture of terror and defiance etched in their features.

Dean quietly respects their bravery and their willingness to give their freedom as a way to spare their brethren. The selection went easier than Dean could have hoped, and he knows he has Gabriel to thank for that. Giving him to Sam is the best way Dean can afford to thank him.

Dean is under no delusions that either his brother or the monk would thank him for his benevolence. He’s likely to find trouble for his decision when they return home and he must face their father, but he'll deal with that then. He only wishes he had something to soften the inevitable blow. Something with dark hair, blue eyes, and a gravel rough voice.

Dean snorts to himself and shakes his head. Who is he kidding? Even if he had managed to find Castiel, the man would surely hate him. Dean would have no chance of getting the monk into his bed and having him as his slave would be exhausting when they would certainly be at odds at every turn.

Castiel has a fire burning deep in his soul, one that screams his refusal to submit. The soft smile he had gifted to Dean in the forest was born of innocence that has surely been destroyed by the violence of the Viking raid.

He will want nothing to do with Dean beyond putting a dagger in his heart.

Perhaps it is truly for the best that Odin did not see fit to allow Dean the company of the blue-eyed monk.

Dean lets out a deep sigh as the sound of the rower’s song lifts above the sounds of the water, singing praises of Aegir and Odin, Freya and Thor as their oars strike the tempo.

The monks cower lower at the dark cadence but they hold their stoic silence as the hours pass with the boats drifting along on the gently rolling waves.

The afternoon sun is sinking on the horizon by the time they reach the copse of trees their camp is hidden within. The monks are quickly led to an area near the center of activity and their feet are bound so they have no chance of escape while Dean carefully watches the proceedings.

His warriors know that Dean will not tolerate abuse in his camp and they abide by his rules without question. The monks are left uncomfortable but unharmed. Dean is not concerned by most of his warriors, he is only careful to keep an eye on the other pair of brothers on this raid. Azazel and Alastair.

They are the sons of Asmodeus, Samuel’s disgraced older brother. They are cruel and vindictive, ready and willing to destroy the place Dean has painstakingly carved out for him and Sam in their adoptive family.

In their eyes, Samuel has no claim to the Jarldom he holds and neither does Dean as his heir. They watch and wait for their opportunity to usurp, but they are too weak as individuals to lead their intended uprising, so Samuel and Dean keep careful watch, waiting for them to make a grave mistake and have an excuse to send them with the Valkyries to the afterlife.

Dean gives Benny a nod, a silent signal to watch the camp closely for signs of anyone seeking to undermine the last stages of the raid. It is not too late for the opposing brothers to launch an attack on Dean and Sam themselves and claim the success of the raid for themselves.

With the new slaves to manage, they have their work cut out for them and there is no room for insubordination.

Dean sends out the hunting party once the boats are packed with everything they will not need during the night. They will leave the shores of Wessex when the sky begins to show the first signs of grey light as dawn approaches. They will need extra stores of meat for the journey if they are to feed the ten additional men.

Dean leaves Sam to manage the monks since he is the only among their party who speaks their language sufficiently. So long as Gabriel continues to cooperate, the pair of them should ensure the obedience of the monks and in turn, their safety.

The camp bustles with muted activity, all under Dean’s careful direction and when the sun sets fully, the mead begins to flow as the fires are lit. Dean smiles and laughs with the rest of them, but his gaze returns to the monks often.

Sam and Benny bring the monks the meager rations they will be allowed on the journey. Those who prove to be adequate rowers will receive more to keep up their strength, and the rest will receive only enough to keep them from falling ill.

Eventually, Dean’s warriors settle down to rest by the crackling light of their fires and he takes the first watch, as always. Benny will take the next and Sam the final so that the camp will be under an eye Dean trusts at all times.

Dean sits against a tree facing the monks who huddle together like sheep. His shirt catches on the rough bark of the tree when he shifts, but he finds a slight indent in the truck that cradles him comfortably enough to forgive the hard ground beneath him. Dean watches through the waning firelight as the Christians pass terrified whispers amongst themselves while casting him furtive glances with widened eyes. He doesn’t need to understand their language to understand what they’re feeling right now.

He remembers what being stolen from everything he had ever known feels like. Granted, he was much younger than these men, but he imagines the sentiment is similar enough.

Dean gives them a taunting wave paired with his most charming smile and watches in amusement as they hurry to look away. He narrowly avoids letting out a derisive laugh as he shakes his head, hating the task he has chosen to undertake.

Only Gabriel dares to hold Dean’s gaze and he gives the monk a firm nod of respect for his bravery. Even if it misplaced.

Dean considers approaching the shorter man but decides against the idea. Very little good could come of it. Likely no good at all.

The other slaves have names that seem strange to Dean, yet they hold a tingle of familiarity. Balthazar, Inias, Alfie…and more that Dean cannot remember.

Balthazar seems to the oldest and the loudest of the monks. He’s tall and slender, his blue eyes sharp and calculating despite the careless looks he tosses amongst the Vikings. He will be one to watch.

Inias and Alfie are meek and gentle souls although Dean holds the impression that Alfie is more of a nickname than the young man’s true name. Regardless, they might do well tending to the village widows.

The others, Dean has yet to get a feel for but he needs them to be useful.

Dean picks apart a stick and tosses the bits of bark onto the ground until there is little more to his stick than a pile of debris.

A muted rustle in the distance catches Dean’s attention and he stares off in the direction of the sound. A quick look to the monks still awake show that they heard the noise as well, their attention is fixated on a point in the distance rather than Dean.

Dean sighs as he pushes to his feet and collects his sword. He considers waking his brother and Benny to investigate but he dismisses the idea. It’s probably nothing.

He hears another rustle of leaves and branches and he relaxes marginally, the sound likely only one of his warriors up to relieve themselves.

He quietly treads in the direction of the noise just in case. He nears the edge of camp quickly as his sharp eyes scan the darkness for signs of a threat. Looming trees surround him and the dried leaves under his feet make a silent approach impossible.

Away from the comforting light of the fire, Dean’s eyes struggle to adjust to the darkness of the forest. He ventures on, guided only by the faint light of the full moon that filters down through the trees.

Deeper into the trees, the hairs on the back of his neck begin to stand at attention, his instinct demanding a reaction to a charge in the air that he cannot quite place. The farther Dean travels from camp, the louder the silence becomes and the more certain Dean is that something isn’t right.

He holds his sword at the ready and tenses as he hears a pained squeal that sounds suspiciously like the sound of a scream muffled and a deep grunt from another. The trees thin quickly and Dean begins to hear a hushed voice that sends a shiver down his spine.

The moon is bright when Dean finds himself stepping into a small clearing free from the dappled shadows of the forest and his eyes can confirm what his instinct had told him.

Alastair.

The man is hunched over another, holding them down.

Dean glimpses the dark cloak of a monk and his heart skips in his chest. He _knows_ the ten monks selected are still bound next to the fire, so who is this one?

“Alastair!” Dean shouts angrily as he takes in the situation.

The monk is on his hands and knees, Alastair behind him with his hips flush against the struggling monk, his hand tightly over the man’s mouth to muffle his screams as he grinds against the monk’s bare backside. Dean stomach sours and his rage is immediate.

Dean raises his sword as he rushes across the clearing. “Get off of him!” Dean growls as he reaches for Alastair, ripping him away from the monk and casting him roughly onto the ground. Dean quickly places himself between the men while the monk screams through his sobs as he scrambles away.

Dean presses the tip of his sword against Alastair’s throat, the sharp point digging in firmly enough to draw a thin trickle of blood.

“Aww, Deanie, you’re ruining my fun,” Alastair sneers, his tone serpentine and nasally as he glares up at Dean.

Dean fights back bile at what he knows he’s witnessed. Rape is a crime punishable by death. Dean doesn’t care that the victim isn’t one of them. He will not tolerate this insult against another.

The screaming and sobbing monk draws his attention, however, as he lays doubled over on the grass and thistle covered ground in obvious pain. Dean would recognize that dark hair and gravel-filled voice anywhere, even if Dean cannot see those bottomless blue eyes in the darkness.

“He was trying to rescue his little friends,” Alastair sneers, following Dean’s gaze. He cracks a sickly smile and pushes away from Dean’s blade. “I was doing you a favor.”

“What the hell is going on here!” Benny barks as he charges into the clearing, taking in the scene before him.

“I caught this snake in the act of raping the Christian,” Dean says, tone flat as he nods to Castiel. His heart hammers in his chest as he glares at Alastair while casting worried glances toward the monk curled on the ground.

Cas.

This monster dared put his hands on what belongs to Dean and affronted the gods by harming such a beautiful creature.

Dean will not stand for it.

“Check on the monk,” Dean gives the order to Benny as he snarls at Alastair. He needs a second member of their party to corroborate his story before Dean can deliver justice. He loathes the idea of Benny touching Cas, but he must allow it this once.

He knows Benny will do what he must and nothing more.

“Dean!” Sam runs into the clearing, followed by several other men. “What is happening?”

“Alastair is guilty of rape,” Benny delivers the verdict as he roughly shoves Castiel’s face into the grass so that he may inspect the damage Alastair inflicted.

Cas screams and struggles to escape and Sam is quick to help contain him, muttering softer words that Dean hopes are promises of safety.

Dean’s stomach lurches painfully and his eyes burn with righteous fury as he digs the tip of the sword against Alastair’s pale flesh.

Alastair scrambles backward as his brother quickly pulls him to his feet. Dean snarls at Azazel in disgust as the man comes between Dean and his prey.

“You know the punishment for such an act. You dared to touch what is mine and you will pay the gods for your treachery,” Dean says, tone low and deadly as he holds his sword at the ready.

“He is not yours. He was trespassing into our camp to steal what is ours. You hold no claim on him,” Alastair says boldly, only the slightest flinch giving away his unease. “I was doing what you should have done.”

“You are wrong,” Sam stands angrily and closes the distance between where Castiel lays in the grass, subdued by Benny, and Dean’s confrontation with Alastair. “Dean laid claim to this monk,” Sam says, gesturing to Castiel, “On our journey into the monastery.” Sam places his hand on the dagger on his hip. “You broke our rules of conduct _and_ damaged Dean’s property,” Sam says through gritted teeth.

Dean knows how his brother despises the idea of slavery, but they both know that laying claim to Castiel is the only way Alastair can be punished for his actions. They cannot pass an opportunity to lay waste to this ungodly man.

“Bring the monk here,” Dean says without taking his eyes off Alastair and Azazel. The small clearing has begun to fill with curious onlookers and Dean hardens his stance in the face of scrutiny.

Benny is quick to comply. He drags Castiel to his feet and pulls him toward Dean before the monk can mount a protest. Castiel's gaze is pained and terrified as fat tears stream down his cheeks as he looks between them.

“Do wish him punished for harming you?” Dean meets Castiel’s eyes as he asks and Cas pulls back, scared and not understanding. “Sam? Please,” Dean asks, shaking his head as he turns back to Alastair.

Sam rapidly translates and Castiel’s eyes widen with deeper confusion. Sam speaks for longer than Dean expected, he must be explaining their form of justice and Dean recognizes the moment understanding dawns in Castiel.

Cas clenches his jaw, forcing himself to meet Dean’s gaze despite his obvious terror and gives Dean a single but faint nod.

A slow grin spreads over Dean’s features as he turns to Alastair. “Alastair, son of Asmodeus, you are hereby found guilty of breaking our laws and harming another’s property. You have dishonored yourself, your father and our people. You are sentenced to die. Do any of you object?” Deans says, his voice raised so that all may hear and voice any opposition they may hold.

“This is ridiculous,” Azazel says as he steps between Dean and his brother. Two of the other men take the opportunity to grab hold of Alastair and kick him to his knees. “There is no more room on the boats for you to claim this Christian, and my brother cannot be held liable regarding this filth,” Azazel says, gesturing toward Castiel.

“Our law does not leave room for creative interpretation. Rape is rape, no matter who the victim is.” Sam says, stepping forward. Sam is the indisputable expert on Samuel’s laws. “Are there any here who would defend Alastair?”

“No mercy,” A voice calls from the back and Dean smiles. He knew he could trust those he chose to surround himself with. A chorus of agreeing calls sound and Dean grins.

“The ruling stands,” Dean says, brows raised toward Azazel in challenge. He would _love_ for Azazel and Alastair to resist the ruling and have an excuse to end them both.

“This will not stand!” Azazel screams, leaning close to Dean’s face with spittle flying.

Dean shoves the man back and wipes the spit from his face. “Your brother will die tonight,” Dean says coldly as he gestures for Azazel to be restrained.

“You will not get away with this! My brother has committed no crime!” Azazel yells as he struggles against the men holding him.

“You do not have the power to do this, Dean,” Alastair says, his voice oil slick and furious even as his arms are held behind his back. “I have done nothing wrong.”

“You have committed an unforgivable offense, Alastair, and I _do_ have the power to punish you for it.” Dean glares and signals for Azazel to be taken away.

Three men readily jump to Dean’s direction and Azazel is dragged away, still spewing profanities and demanding to be released. Benny holds Castiel upright next to Dean despite the monk trying to double over in pain. He needs a healer. Dean’s insides wrench into knots at the thought of the damage done to the beautiful man and his inability to help him. His pain will be avenged.

Dean steps to where Alastair struggles on his knees with his arms held fast by two others in their party. Dean smiles down at the condemned man. He’s been waiting for this opportunity for years. He turns to Benny and nods. “Find a stump,” He orders before gesturing to Sam. “Take him.”

Sam steps forward with a rope to bind Castiel’s hands, countenance troubled by the action he knows he must take.

Once his hands are bound, Dean grasps Castiel by the elbow to lead him back to camp. The others follow with Alastair bound and roughly shoved through the forest. He is not a popular man and none complain about what they know is to happen.

His shame means he shall not receive a proper funeral and his soul shall never reside in Valhalla. Dean will see to it.

Cas struggles against Dean’s hold but he’s weak from being attacked and wet tears still coat his cheeks. This close, Dean can see his blue eyes are reddened and a deep bruise is already forming high on his cheek.

“I will protect you now,” Dean says quietly. He knows Castiel likely does not understand his words, but Dean hopes his tone as at least soothing.

Castiel chokes on a sob as he stares at their feet and keeps as much space between them as Dean allows. Worried murmurs spread amongst the monks still bound next to the fire as Dean drags Castiel past, but Cas doesn’t lift his gaze to face them when they call his name.

“Down,” Dean orders, gently nudging Cas to his knees next to Dean’s bedroll. He is not letting the man out of his sight now that he has him.

Cas must understand enough because he lowers with only a huff of protest and whimper of pain. Dean’s heart aches knowing there is little he can do. The brighter light of the fire reveals a trail of blood leaking down Castiel’s leg and Dean’s outrage grows. He lets out a low growl as he tugs Castiel’s robe aside to reveal the monk’s bare leg and more crimson wetness.

Cas flinches with a panicked cry and tries to scoot away but Dean snags his ankle and drags him back with a disapproving cluck of his tongue.

“Be still, Christian,” Dean chides, thankful to see his brother striding toward them with a jar of ointment in hand from their healer.

Sam kneels on Castiel’s other side and Cas looks between the two brothers with a terrified expression. “We will cause you no more harm,” Sam says, tone reassuring. “You remember us from earlier today?” Sam questions as he gestures to himself and Dean.

Castiel nods and Dean watches the man’s throat flex as he swallows hard. His eyes scream with the amount of pain he is suffering and Dean’s heart twinges in sympathy.

“The man who harmed you will die,” Dean says and rests a hand on Castiel’s shoulder. Cas flinches away from the contact but doesn’t try to run. Dean gestures across the fire where Alastair is kneeling in the dirt with his hands bound behind him. He struggles against the ropes, but he has no real chance of escape. “Sam, tell him. Tell him his pain will be avenged.”

Sam sighs deeply and looks to where is Azazel being kept away from his brother by several other men and the monks watch the scene unfold with terror etched in their features. They continually glance to Castiel, wary of the attention Dean is paying him.

Sam hurriedly translates for Dean as the older man reaches a hand to brush his fingers along the sharp cut of Castiel’s jaw. Cas recoils but returns his attention to the brothers, staring wide-eyed at Sam as he speaks.

“This will help you heal. If we release your hands, will you apply this to yourself?” Sam explains in Castiel’s language.

“No, no no no,” Cas says on repeat, the words barely more than a soft plea as he looks between Sam and the offered ointment.

“Are any of your brother’s healers? Perhaps you want one of them to help you.” Sam gestures across the clearing toward the other monks and Cas’ gaze follows his arm.

The blue-eyed monk stares longingly at the other monks and his expression betrays his inner turmoil. Finally, he clenches his eyes and shakes his head. “No.”

Sam sighs and shakes his head sadly. “If you won’t, Dean will. Do you want that?” Sam continues to explain, and Dean’s ears perk up at the sound of his name though he doesn’t understand the rest of what Sam says.

Cas looks to Dean and swallows hard. “Fine,” He says to Sam sharply as he reaches forward with his bound hands to take the ointment from Sam.

Sam nods. “Cut him loose,” He says to Dean. “Do not try to run, no one here wants to have to hurt you, or them,” Sam speaks to Castiel and gestures toward the other monks when Cas lets out another strangled cry.

Dean reaches for his knife and cuts through Castiel’s bonds easily. The first thing the monk does is drop the jar of salve and lunge for Dean, reaching for the small blade.

Dean dodges the sloppy attack and pins Castiel to the earth by his throat. “Enough,” Dean growls, reaching for the jar.

Cas releases his grip on Dean’s forearms, leaving red gouges from his nails behind and reaches for the jar once again. “No,” Cas bites, glaring up at Dean.

Dean is beginning to think that “no” may be the only word Castiel knows in the Norse language, but he gets his point across well enough.

Dean smiles, glad to see his monk’s feistiness returning, and hands over the small jar. “Now,” Dean says before glancing to Sam to make sure he used the right word.

Cas swallows hard and nods, carefully prying the lid from the jar and giving the contents a sniff. He wrinkles his nose at the smell and Dean nods his agreement. Yes, the sticky paste stinks. Castiel takes another sniff and looks to Sam with a curious expression. “What?” He asks as he holds up the jar.

Dean’s chest swells with pride at Castiel’s attempt to calm himself.

Sam smiles softly yet the wariness in his eyes betrays his unease. “Mint, willow bark,” Sam says, nodding toward the jar.

“Calendula?” Castiel questions, head cocked as he dips his fingers inside.

Sam nods and gestures for Dean to give them some space. Castiel seems to trust Sam more, the monk even allows Sam to help position him on his knees so that he can reach his injuries while preserving his modesty.

Dean watches as Castiel’s expression darkens, pain taking over his fine features as Cas’ lip trembles and his eyes clench shut. Cas hisses at the contact of the balm on his damaged skin and tears seep from the corners of his eyes with the humiliation of it all.

Castiel sinks to the ground with a sob when he finishes and lets Sam take his hand to wipe the blood and excess salve away. He barely makes a move when Dean strokes his fingers lightly over the exposed skin of Castiel’s arm, his chest shakes and heaves with silent cries and Dean lets him rest for a moment while Sam tucks the jar of healing ointment into Dean’s pack.

Castiel will be needing it often.

Sam gives Dean a nod and stands to leave. He needs to manage the coming execution if justice is to be delivered swiftly. Dean gives Cas another moment to collect himself

“Come, Cas,” Dean urges once Castiel begins to sob but his words only cause the monk to renew his tears. “Come,” Dean tries again, giving Castiel’s arm a gentle tug.

Cas lets out a rough growl and lunges for Dean again, this time reaching for the sword on Dean’s hip.

“Dammit, Cas,” Dean bites, wrestling the monk back but not before he wraps his hand around the sharp blade.

Cas hisses in pain but refuses to let go as Dean attempts to pull him away and force Castiel to loosen his grip.

“Stop!” Dean barks and Cas ignores him, either from stubbornness or lack of understanding, Dean doesn’t care. He will not tolerate this.

Suddenly, Castiel freezes, staring down at his bloodied hand before looking up into Dean’s narrowed and angry green eyes. “Wyvern,” Cas whispers, turning his wide stare back to the blade.

Dean uses the opportunity to pry Castiel’s hand from the sword and push him away before he reaches for the rope Sam had left behind to bind the idiot’s hands once again if only to prevent him from hurting himself further. “You sure are a stubborn son of a bitch,” Dean grumbles and Castiel ignores the words as he continues to stare at the sword.

“Winchester,” Castiel mumbles, reaching for the weapon once more but Dean puts an abrupt stop to the motion. Cas turns his blue eyes to Dean’s green ones, staring in disbelieving wonder.

Dean cocks his head at the strange yet distantly familiar word but doesn’t pause his mission of tying Castiel’s hands together.

“Come,” Dean says gruffly as he jerks Cas to his feet, hands now bound tightly in front of him. Dean ignores the cut still dripping blood from the monk’s palm with an irritated huff.

Castiel doesn’t move and Dean is quickly beginning to lose patience. “Come,” He growls once again, this time wrenching Castiel to his feet. “If I am to deliver justice for you, then you will watch.”

Cas stares at Dean with frightened eyes but doesn’t fight the rough treatment. He stumbles along beside Dean almost blindly, barely even sparing his brothers on the other side of the fire a glance.

“You are mine now. I am doing this because Alastair assaulted you. Remember that,” Dean says lowly as they trudge toward the stump Benny selected and Cas looks to him wide eyes and shakes his head in a show of his lack of understanding.

Dean frowns and looks up, searching for his brother. “Sam!” Dean shouts as he waves a hand for Sam to join them. Sam trots over, his expression grim, and Dean thrusts the monk toward him. “Watch him. Explain what is happening, make sure he understands that I’m doing this for him,” Dean says as he gestures toward Cas and then to Alastair before he strokes gentle fingers over Castiel’s jaw and gives the monk a small smile when he doesn’t flinch away.

Cas glares murderously, but the reflection of the campfire dancing in the whites of his eyes contrasting with the perfect blue staring back at Dean is enchanting and dangerous. Dean feels a shiver run up his spine at the sight but he doesn’t let himself linger.

He has a duty to complete.

Dean takes up Sam’s ax and heads for the stump where Benny and two others stand watch over Alastair before he can see the results of Sam’s explanation flash over Castiel’s features. He will avenge the monk’s pain, and he is proud to do so.

“No! No! Dean! No!” Castiel shouts as he struggles to break free from Sam’s hold. Dean turns and gives his brother a puzzled expression and Sam merely shrugs as if unsurprised and bored by Castiel’s panic.

Dean sighs and shakes his head as he turns away from the commotion to face Alastair. A quick nod to Benny sets the man in motion and he pushes down on Alastair’s back until his head rests against the stump.

“By the will of the gods, justice shall be served. Alastair has broken our laws and shall pay the price,” Dean raises his voice so that all may hear his words before he dares to spare a glance to Castiel. Sam has his hand held tight over the monk’s mouth, but Cas’ eyes are wide and his skin has gone pale in the dim light of the dancing fire.

Dean’s brow furrows at the sight. Cas looks as if he is about to be ill and somehow Dean cannot entirely credit the monk’s expression to the horrible violation he had been forced to endure. Cas looks as if he doesn’t _want_ Dean to collect vengeance on his behalf.

Would the Christian spare his rapist?

Dean shakes off the thought. Of course not. Even these weak men wouldn’t do such a thing.

Dean doesn’t wait for Azazel to put forth his complaints and knows he will hear none from Alastair. The brother of the condemned is forced to kneel and be still. If either of them chooses to dishonor their family further by protesting justice, then Azazel will share in Alastair’s fate.

The members of the raiding party gather around and Sam leads Castiel closer. The monk still struggles, sucking in heaving breaths through his nose with wide eyes as Sam continues to cover his mouth.

Dean steps forward and gives Benny a nod as he lifts the heavy ax.

With a single quick swing, Alastair’s head rolls away from his body and Dean stares at the bleeding corpse for a moment before turning his back and walking away. The others will bury Alastair with his head placed between his knees as a sign to the gods of an unworthy soul.

Alastair will reside in Náströnd and suffer for all eternity as punishment for his crimes.

Dean meets Castiel’s tear-filled eyes with a swell of pride and Sam finally removes his hand and releases his hold on the monk.

Cas drops to his knees, tears streaming down his cheeks as he leans forward and mutters words that sound like nonsense to Dean.

Dean looks to Sam for an explanation and the younger man shrugs. “He’s praying,” Sam doesn’t bother to look at Dean in favor of keeping his steady gaze on the monk kneeling in the dirt.

“Why?” Dean questions as he glances between his brother and Castiel.

Sam pinches a frown. “For our forgiveness.”

Dean scrunches his nose and scowls. “He did nothing to need our forgiveness,” Dean says with his brows tightly knitted as he watches Castiel touch his forehead to the ground.

“Not _from_ us, Dean. _For_ us. From his god,” Sam says, and Dean looks up at his brother in surprise. “I told him what was happening and he was _horrified_, Dean,” Sam says as he slowly shakes his head. “This is not the Christian way of punishment.” Sam gestures to their surroundings, to the bloodied and headless corpse and the men busy digging a shallow grave near the edge of the trees.

Dean huffs in derision and shakes his head. He’s heard what the Christian Kings do to their enemies and this pales in comparison. His thoughts drift to the tales of Ragnar meeting his demise at the hands of King Aella and a pit of snakes. Only a twisted mind could invent such a torment.

“Ridiculous,” Dean gripes as he reaches to drag Castiel from the ground. His stomach twists at the sight of Castiel’s tears and his bent form. He cannot bear to watch this display for a moment longer.

Cas silences his prayers and goes lax in Dean’s hold despite his continued trembling. His compliance causes a swell of hope in Dean’s chest that Cas will cease his struggles and obey.

After witnessing the violence that Dean is so easily capable of, he would be a fool to continue his resistance.

“Cas,” Dean says to the man in a hushed tone as he leads him to Dean’s spot next to the fire. The other monks watch them carefully, having been spared the sight of Alastair’s attack and execution, they glare daggers of blame at Dean for Castiel’s hunched form and terrified cries.

Cas drops petulantly to the ground with a wince when Dean presses his shoulder down and Dean crouches in front of him. “Are you hungry?” Dean asks, only to find himself on the receiving end of a puzzled and hate-filled look. Dean sighs and shakes his head. “Food? Eat?” Dean speaks but Cas only narrows his eyes in a glare. “Do you want food?” Dean says, this time miming the motion of putting food in his mouth and chewing before rubbing his stomach.

Cas’ eyes narrow further and he shakes his head exactly once. “No.”

Dean frowns but nods and turns to sit next to where Castiel kneels. “Rest then, tomorrow we leave for Laugar. Home,” Dean says despite knowing Castiel won’t know his meaning.

Castiel stares, unmoving, into the flames dancing in front of them and Dean considers moving him to be with the rest of the monks before he quickly dismisses the idea. He will not let this man out of his sight or away from his side until they are home. He cannot trust Azazel to not try to finish what his brother started.

Sam comes and sits on Castiel’s other side once Alastair’s corpse is buried. He opens his mouth to speak, but Castiel ignores Sam’s presence and Sam leaves him to settle at Dean’s side as he shakes his head sadly.

“Get some rest, Dean. I’ll keep watch,” Sam says over Castiel’s head.

Dean nods with a frown. Sam is right. He does need to sleep. The faint chill in the air becomes apparent when Dean pushes to his feet to collect his bedroll and decides to drape his best fur over Castiel’s shoulders when he sees the man shiver.

Castiel does not acknowledge Dean’s gift but Dean is too tired to care. He shuffles to the side to lay down and is asleep almost before his eyes close.


	3. The Journey Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The journey north begins and Cas struggles to come to terms with his situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From here on, my updates will fluctuate between Tuesdays and Thursdays, depending on when I have the next chapter fully edited and ready to post. Expect one each calendar week. Much love and thank you for reading.

Castiel doesn’t sleep that night. He spends the few hours until dawn staring into the dwindling flames of the fire with churning thoughts.

At some point, the man who seems to be friends with the brothers holding him captive came to speak with Sam and Cas clenched his eyes tightly closed as the man approached. Their hushed words meant nothing to Castiel, but Sam had soon laid on the ground next to his brother and their friend took his place.

The other man keeps his steady gaze on their surroundings for the rest of the night and Cas doesn’t risk trying to move. At the very least, the brothers have made no move to harm him, but he isn’t foolish enough to trust anyone here.

Castiel releases a deep sigh as he stares across the space toward his brothers. He failed them. If he had alerted someone to Dean’s presence in the woods, this could have been avoided. The King’s armies would have come in time and they would still be nestled safely behind the walls of their abbey instead of huddled in fear around a fire while surrounded by savages.

He had attempted a rescue. He knew where the Viking camp was and once again, he should have run directly to the lord of the land so that they would raise the alarm. But Castiel took matters into his own hands and made matters worse.

He had been so careful, so quiet, but that wasn’t enough. That horrible man and the things he did… Cas fights back a new sob and his shoulders shudder at the thought of what Alastair did to him. He was powerless to stop it from happening, and now all he wants is to curl up and hide in his shame.

He should have run when Dean had burst into the clearing and pulled that vile creature from his body, but all he could do in his weakness was sob into the grass. He is a man of God, not a warrior. He never imagined himself to be in this situation. The brutality he has witnessed… Cas shakes his head, trying to dispel the thought.

Sam had told him the penalty for the crime committed against him was death. But Castiel isn’t naïve enough to think any of these heathens care about him. Dean only cares because he thinks of Cas as a damaged piece of property.

Human beings are not property!

And yet, here he is. Bound hand and foot, powerless to stop himself from being stolen from his home.

His soul aches with despair and his entire body feels numb with it.

His pain swells into something that his body cannot contain and tears track down Castiel’s cheeks as he prays to God for deliverance. This must be a test of their faith. There could be no other reason that God would allow this to happen to his devout followers. They are peaceful men, devoted to their worship and their studies. They strive for nothing more than peace and to help those around them find their way to Heaven.

God wouldn’t do this to them without a reason.

He turns his head just enough to glimpse the sword at Dean’s side and Cas imagines he can see the graceful etching in the blade from where he sits. He can scarcely believe what he knows he saw, but he would recognize those markings anywhere.

Not that it matters. Dean is a monster. His origins mean nothing.

Castiel’s pained thoughts circle until the sun returns color to the grey world around him. He shrinks in on himself when Benny pushes to his feet and rouses Dean from his slumber.

Dean sits up with a grumble and Cas can feel the man’s green eyes boring into him. A hot spark of hatred flames to life deep in his chest as he stares ahead, trying to ignore Dean’s watchful gaze.

Cas refuses to give in. He will not be an obedient piece of chattel.

He tracks Dean’s movement out of the corner of his eye as the Viking crosses the clearing and enters the woods while Benny wakes Sam. Soon the entire camp is buzzing and Cas forces himself to be still as stone while he waits.

He flinches and cries out in surprise when a strong hand grasps his elbow from behind and wrenches him to his feet. Cas’ knees immediately give out from kneeling the entire night and Dean grumbles something in Norse as he supports Cas’ weight and drags him toward the break in trees.

Dean pushes Cas toward a tree, giving an order that Cas doesn’t understand as he stares expectantly. Cas clenches his jaw and narrows his eyes in a glare as Dean rolls his in a way that has a fresh surge of anger boiling in Cas’ gut.

Eventually, Dean breaks their staring and mimes the action of undoing his pants and…urinating? Is that what he wants Cas to do? Cas frowns harder and looks down his front, considering Dean’s actions and bemoaning that he has to pee.

Dean is right, no matter how Castiel hates to admit that fact. Cas swallows his indignation with a sigh and gives Dean a slight nod before shuffling his feet to turn his back to the man. Dean doesn’t step away, and Cas’ neck prickles with the feeling of being watched.

No sooner does Castiel have himself tucked away than Dean is shoving the small jar of ointment into Castiel’s hands. Cas looks to him with wide eyes and Dean nods, making a motion with his hands to urge Castiel on. “Now,” Dean says as his hands wave and Cas swallows hard.

Now? Cas repeats the word in his mind as he stares down at the jar.

“Cas,” Dean says a short version of his name to get Castiel’s attention.

Cas scowls and shakes his head. “Castiel,” He says, pointing to himself.

Dean shrugs. “Cas.”

Cas’ scowl deepens, and he shakes his head again but Dean interrupts before he can speak.

“Salve, Cas. Now,” Dean says, impatience bleeding into his tone as he points to the jar.

Salve? Castiel cocks his head. “Salve?” He says, looking to Dean for confirmation. He vaguely remembers the word from last night, but his pain and terror overrode and sense of clarity.

A pleased smile spreads across Dean’s features. “Yes, salve. Put on now,” Dean says slowly, taking the time to enunciate each word.

Cas’ brow furrows in confusion as he tries to piece together the words. He thinks he knows what Dean wants but he can’t bring himself to comply. His heart squeezes and tears pool in his eyes. His entire body hurts and he just can’t. “No,” He says, purposely keeping his tone soft and pleading, hoping Dean might understand.

Dean narrows his eyes and glares as he reaches for Cas and Castiel takes a step back in panic.

“Please, no. Please, Dean,” Castiel says, shaking his head. He knows how to say please in several languages and he thanks his teachers now that Norse is one of them. He’s on the verge of tears that he tries valiantly to hold back even as he covers his mouth with his hand. He learned long ago that the Norse prize fearlessness and strength. He doesn’t want to appear weak to his captor, especially when he’s being shown a modicum of civility.

Dean’s hand stops mid-air and he tilts his head curiously. His expression softens and Castiel can only hope that he understands that Cas isn’t trying to be difficult, he’s reached the limit of his abilities and the yawning pit of despair clouding his soul means that he can’t deal with anything more. Dean nods and Cas lets out the breath he’s been holding.

Cas reaches to hand the small jar back to Dean, but Dean pushes his hands back, guiding Cas’ hand toward the small pocket on his robe. “Keep,” Dean says, helping Cas push the jar into his pocket and patting it to get his point across. “Keep.”

Cas sucks in a shaky breath when the man touches him and he flinches out of instinct, but Dean only nods with a sad smile.

“Come,” Dean says with a gesture for Cas to follow.

Cas lingers a little too long and Dean soon reaches for him and pushes Cas in front to march back to camp.

Dean walks him past the other monks and Cas looks longingly at his brothers.

In the short time they were in the forest, the camp is nearly cleared and the fire doused. Members of the raiding party quickly pack their belongings into the boats as if the entire operation had been choreographed beforehand and Cas is begrudgingly impressed with their speed even as his heart races with the thought of their impending departure.

Dean leads him to a slim tree and binds Castiel’s hands to it, leaving him tethered like a dog with a command to stay.

Cas watches with wide eyes as Dean walks away and his stomach lurches when he spots Azazel across the camp sharpening an ax. Castiel glances down at his hands with worried nausea bubbling in his gut.

He considers calling Dean back but the words die in his throat as fear takes over.

He twists his wrists to gain enough leverage to undo the knot and break free, but Dean tied him too well. Cas gives up with a huff and his heart lodges in his throat when he looks up to see Azazel striding toward him with a murderous glare.

His lungs constrict as he watches the evil man cross the clearing with his ax firmly in hand. Cas needs help. He can’t defend himself.

Cas looks around in a blind panic, searching for Dean but the man has disappeared. Cas tugs violently on the ropes binding him with a strangled sound and his heart threatens to beat out of his chest.

“Azazel!” Sam’s voice barks from across the clearing and Cas’ gaze shoots to the younger of the Viking brothers. Gabriel is at Sam’s side gesturing wildly between Castiel and Azazel.

Castiel meets Gabriel’s gaze and tries to push as much gratitude into his expression as he can while Sam makes his way to him. Gabriel follows and Cas notices that his hands are unbound. Jealousy and anger flare in Castiel’s gut as Sam unties the rope from the tree.

“Cassie,” Gabriel says as he throws himself at Castiel and wraps him in a tight hug that Cas does his best not to flinch away from. “How are you here? What happened?” Gabriel asks Castiel in a rush before turning to Sam. “Why are you keeping him away from us?”

Sam takes a deep breath and nods. “That is Dean’s decision, not mine. What happened to Cas is his story to tell if he wishes, but you saw the look on Azazel’s face.” Sam turns to face Castiel. “He wants to hurt you, Cas.” Sam finishes with a frown.

“Because of Alastair?” Castiel asks, voice trembling and rough from disuse. He already knows the answer.

Sam nods. “Dean was foolish to leave you here. Come, come with us. You and Gabriel can speak.” Sam gestures for the monks to walk beside him and he keeps hold of the long rope binding Cas’ hands.

“I’m so sorry, Gabriel, I tried to rescue you and the others, but...” Castiel starts but trails off when he notices Sam’s raised brow and inquisitive expression.

Gabriel gives Sam a cross look before angling himself and Castiel away from the Viking. “Cassie, you shouldn’t have done that. You’re not a fighter. If Dean hurt you, I swear I’ll...”

“It wasn’t Dean,” Cas blurts. He can’t name the emotion that prods him into offering a slight defense for his green-eyed captor, but the words fall from his lips before he can stop them. “Dean killed the man who harmed me,” Cas hurries to explain. He already recognizes the dangerous glint in his brother’s eye and it would benefit none of them for him to lash out just now.

“Good,” Gabriel says firmly as he crosses his arms over his chest. “I didn’t convince nine of our brothers to volunteer to be taken as slaves just for those heathens to hurt us.”

“Gabriel!” Cas exclaims, eyes wide.

Gabe shrugs. “They were going to take ten of us either way. I had hoped that volunteering would help to spare the others.”

“And it did,” Sam says, cutting into their conversation. “You were very brave…”

“Wasn’t talking to you,” Gabriel snipes and Sam shakes his head with a smirk. “So, Dean took you for himself.” Gabriel lowers his tone to whisper to Castiel and Cas nods without saying a word. “Be careful, Cassie. These Norsemen are savage and violent,” Gabriel says as he shakes his head slowly.

Castiel huffs and scrunches his nose. “They forced me to watch Dean behead a man last night. Trust me, brother. I understand what savagery these heathens are capable of,” Cas says lowly, just loud enough for Sam to overhear as he glares at their surroundings.

Sam snorts with derision as he continues to lead the two monks to the boats, but he doesn’t comment.

“He what?!” Gabriel almost yells and Cas cringes at the sudden sound.

Dean suddenly swoops in and grasps Castiel by the elbow to pull him away from Gabriel with a fierce scowl aimed at his brother. Sam shrugs and motions for Gabriel to keep moving.

“Be strong, Cassie!” Gabriel shouts, his concern written across his features.

“Gabe!” Cas shouts, reaching for his brother as Dean drags him in the opposite direction.

“I HATE YOU!” Cas screams at Dean as he wrenches his elbow free from the man’s grasp. “You’re a monster!” Cas doesn’t even care that Dean surely doesn’t understand his words.

“Come!” Dean demands his tone strained by his tenuous grasp on his self-control. Dean shoves Castiel into a boat and secures the rope still binding his wrists to the bow. “Down,” Dean bites as he shoves Castiel to his knees.

Cas trips and stumbles. He nearly strikes his chin on the wooden hull of the ship, but Dean pulls him back just in time with a fierce scowl. “Dammit Cas,” Dean mutters harshly.

Cas growls and struggles as Dean pushes and shoves him where he wants him.

“Down!” Dean barks and Cas cringes with a sharp flinch as Dean brings his hand down quickly and firmly to rest on Castiel’s shoulder as if the contact will cement the monk in place. “Eat,” Dean orders and then shoves a piece of salted and dried fish at Castiel as if he expects him to accept such a thing.

Cas doesn’t take the fish and it falls to the floor of the boat as both men scowl at one another. “No,” Castiel bites, using one of the very few Norse words he knows. He will not eat that disgusting thing. He will eat nothing Dean gives him.

Dean shakes his head and leaves Cas be, returning to help break down the camp. Castiel watches the scene through narrowed eyes. Not a single man or woman stands idle and Castiel gawks at the women with their long hair and delicate features, dressed as men and carrying weapons. He can’t imagine what savagery they must face to be driven to men’s work. He shakes his head and scowls.

Cas’ gaze tracks the movement of his brothers as they too are taken to the boats. They each wear grim expressions but go as commanded. Castiel is the one among them who did not volunteer to be kidnapped and he resents their stoic masks.

Not a single of the other monks are led to the boat he’s tied to like an animal and Cas’ heart sinks when he realizes that his isolation is to continue.

The boats slowly fill with people although several remain standing in the ankle-deep water and grip the outer edges of the hull. Cas watches with mounting trepidation and his stomach lurches when Dean shouts and the men push the boats deeper into the water. One by one, they leap over the side and land in the boat but they all give Castiel a wide berth.

Dean and Benny are the last to heave themselves aboard after the cool and salty water has reached their knees and soaked their clothes. Dean settles on the bench next to where Castiel kneels and the water dripping from his legs readily soaks into Castiel’s robes. Cas fumes with disgust and he resolutely does not look at the offending man or respond to his presence, and Dean seems content to ignore him for the moment.

Instead, Castiel stares at the shore of his homeland as he’s carried away. He stares with a lump in his throat and tears burn in his eyes until everything he knows is merely a faint line on the horizon behind them.

Anger rises in him as his home disappears and he wants to scream and rage at the unfairness of it all. He glances around to his brothers to find their expressions mirror his own and Cas’ jaw clenches with anger.

His fury doesn’t stop at the Norsemen holding them captive, it extends to the sky and the king who sits upon the heavenly throne. “Lord, why have you forsaken us?” Castiel mutters and his despair plummets to new levels as the shore disappears from view entirely.

As if his plea to the heavens were a preordained signal, song strikes up around him. The chant is low and driving, the rhythm steady. Those holding oars sing the loudest, using the beat to keep an even pace. Cas lets out a silent sob at the thought of the solemn music being the catalyst to drive him away from his home.

The steady sound of voices singing and the gentle rocking of the boat soon lull Castiel into a trance-like state that has his eyes feeling heavy. He fights his drowsiness for a time, but he eventually realizes that this may be the safest time for him to sleep. If nothing else, he trusts that Dean will not throw him overboard, not after the possessiveness that man has displayed.

If Cas is going to chance an escape, he needs to rest.

With that thought, he settles as comfortably as he can, as far away from Dean as his rope allows, and lets his eyes slide closed. Perhaps sleep will be its own escape.

His rest is fitful, and he’s certain he doesn’t fall asleep but he’s left unmolested. When Castiel opens his eyes next, the sun is low on the horizon and Dean’s gruff voice is calling a shortened version of his name.

Castiel groans at the sound, the events of the last day still held to the far edges of his consciousness. That is until a hand reaches out to shake his shoulder.

Castiel’s eyes shoot open and he scrambles back as quickly as he can with a yelp of fear. Dean arches an unimpressed brow and holds a water skin out to Castiel.

“Drink,” Dean says, and Cas narrows his eyes, narrowly resisting his urge to shout and curse at the man.

Dean sighs and shakes his head, pushing the skin closer to Cas and giving it a shake to show how full it is. “Drink,” He says again, his tone softening to lure Castiel into some sense of security.

Castiel holds his silence and glares until Dean huffs with a frown. Benny shrugs when Dean glances at him and then Cas watches as Dean puts the skin to his lips and takes a drink before holding it back out to Castiel. “Cas, drink,” Dean says as if saying the word a third time will magically convince Castiel to comply.

Cas understood well enough the first time. Castiel stares at the offered skin somewhat longingly. His lips are dry from baking in the sun all day and his mouth is tacky. He hasn’t had water in nearly a day and a headache is already blooming across his temple. He knows he needs what Dean is offering.

“No,” Castiel bites with a frown and turns his gaze away from temptation. He doesn’t care if his stubborn refusal costs him his life. He will gladly die in service to his God. He will not serve these men.

Dean scowls and narrows his eyes in an irritated glare before he turns to Benny and grumbles something that sounds a lot like an insult but Cas doesn’t care. Let Dean know how despised he is. Let him know that Castiel would choose death over living under Dean’s thumb.

They continue onward through the darkness once the sun disappears and Castiel can barely see beyond the edge of the boat. He thinks, maybe, the light of the moon reveals a glimpse of a distant shore once or twice, but he can’t be certain. His captors seem to know the way, and Cas finds himself almost complacent as they sail through the night. There is nothing he can do.

The men around him share in salted meats and drink from skins much like the one Dean had offered him, but Dean makes no more offers of food or drink.

The salted fish Dean thrust upon him at dawn still lays neglected on the floor of the boat, and Dean’s water skin lays next to him on the bench just out of Castiel’s reach.

Cas tries not to look at either.

He closes his eyes and tries to rest to pass the time. The gentle rocking of the boat and quiet surrounding them lends an eerie feeling that would be peaceful if not for Castiel’s tumultuous thoughts.

Sleep evades him. Instead, he watches Dean through half-closed eyes. Castiel can’t tell if Dean notices his gaze or not, the man is engrossed in a hushed conversation with Benny, who has more or less ignored Cas since the journey began.

Cas can barely make out their words, the meaning would be lost on him anyway, and he curses the fact he hadn’t bothered to learn more of the Norse language when Gabriel had offered to teach them.

Understanding his captors would be useful.

Eventually, Dean shifts to lay flat on the bench and Benny takes over watching the darkened world go by.

Cas relaxes only when he hears gentle snores coming from Dean and he forces his eyes closed. He has nothing to do but sleep.

He loses track of time before a light tap on his arm has him jumping in surprise and he looks up with widened eyes to see Benny holding out a water skin to him. The man waves it toward him, not saying a word and Cas finds he can no longer resist the siren call of the life-giving liquid. Stabbing pain tears through his stomach, his joints are stiff and achy, and his head throbs to the point where holding his eyes open brings waves of roiling nausea. He isn’t certain which pain is from his injuries, which is from hunger, and which is from lack of water.

He’s been cast into hell and the promise of water may be the only relief he’ll be granted.

He chews his lip for a moment and glances at Dean timidly before looking back to Benny and steeling his nerve. Cas shifts carefully, barely resisting crying out at the sharp paint movement bring after sitting for such a long time and reaches for the promise of water. Benny hands it over with a nod and Cas forces himself flinch a smile and return Benny’s nod as thanks.

He takes a careful sip, watching Benny warily, but the man seems to urge him on and soon Castiel forgets to care. The cool water slides over his tongue and soothes the pain in his throat, a moment of relief in the torment of his new existence.

He lets out a low whine when the water stops flowing, the skin now empty and Benny chuckles when Cas lowers the skin and gives it a damning glare before handing it over. Castiel looks to Benny, hoping for more but the man shrugs with a sad shake of his head and Cas gives an accepting nod.

He assumes they must ration the water, and he’s grateful that Benny gave him anything at all.

After spurning Dean earlier, he expects the green-eyed man will offer him nothing more.

What Castiel doesn’t see is the sly smile on Dean’s face as he watches the scene unfold through a barely opened eye.

Cas watches Benny cautiously as the man points to Castiel’s bound hands before holding his own together and then pulling them apart. He points at Cas’ hands again and then gestures for Cas to come closer.

Cas stares for a moment, narrowing his eyes in consideration as he processes Benny’s meaning. Finally, he decides that Benny wants to untie him, and he finds no reason to deny himself a small measure of freedom.

He scoots closer to Benny, careful to not disturb Dean and he holds his hands out. His heart races when Benny grasps the rope between his wrists to pull him closer and he pulls back as panic rises in his throat but Benny’s firm grip keeps him close. Cas clenches his eyes against his fears and Benny makes short work of undoing the knots binding his hands together.

The larger man releases his hold on Castiel the instant the rope falls away and Cas hurries back to the place he’s come to consider his. Benny gives him a firm nod and turns away, leaving Cas to rub the feeling back into his hands and stretch his arms over his head.

Cas nearly groans with the relief of having a free range of motion once again, but he bites down on the noise before he can draw anyone’s attention. He settles back against the hull of the open-top boat to plan an escape.

Sleep evades him, but Cas finds the lack of rest to be less troubling than expected. He isn’t certain how long he rested during the day, so he uses that as an excuse for his inability to sleep now. He doesn’t want to address the faint curiosity piquing his interest as he watches Dean sleep from the safety of his corner.

Morning dawns and another full day and night pass as Castiel slowly feels more apathetic about his position. He’s convinced that as long as they’re on the boats, the Vikings will not harm him or his brothers.

They are stuck in purgatory, awaiting either damnation or salvation.

Cas settles back with a huff and he looks away when Dean arches a questioning brow in his direction.

Benny has ignored him since that first night and Cas wonders why. He had offered him water and unbound him. Oddly, Dean hadn’t seemed surprised or concerned when he roused from his sleep to find Castiel’s hands free and Cas wonders if Dean hadn’t told Benny to release him.

They may not speak the same language, but Dean is clearly cunning and intelligent. The men around them jump to obey whenever Dean opens his mouth but they do not fear him as far as Castiel can tell. He is a leader and not at all the dumb brute he’s been taught to believe of the Norsemen.

The back of Cas’ head prickles with the sensation of being watched and he has no doubt those vivid green eyes are trained on him. They usually are. Cas has become accustomed to Dean’s watchful gaze and he almost finds a sense of security in Dean’s presence.

Cas huffs and shakes his head at the thought. Just because Dean hasn’t physically harmed him, does not make him a protector.

The near-feral look in Dean’s eyes when he had confronted Alastair had proven to Cas that Dean is capable of terrible things. He had never witnessed such horror as Dean had committed when he swung that ax.

Cas shudders, forcing the image from his mind.

Dean is a monster.

He would do well to remember that.


	4. Salt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel's stubborn refusal to accept food or water from Dean leads him to make a foolish mistake. Luckily, Dean is there to stop him. Unluckily, Cas is forced to admit that maybe Dean isn't quite the monster Cas thinks him to be.

The boat cuts through the small waves silently and the cool water beckons while Cas stares out at the open sea. His thirst, hunger and physical pain add an unending source of fuel to his anger. He can’t remember the last time he ate, and the small amount of water Benny had given him two days ago was not enough to last.  
  
The buzz of restless energy on the boats has Castiel’s nervousness returning tenfold as the bubble of calm he’s found himself in over the last few days threatens to burst. Dean is in constant conversation with Benny and others; orders are frequently barked loudly between the small ships, but Cas doesn’t understand a word that is being said.  
  
Dean has been offering him salted fish and water but Castiel refuses to accept anything from the man. Dean frown deepens each time Castiel refuses, but Cas can’t bring himself to give over what little freedom he has left.  
  
He is under no illusion of what awaits him at the other end of this journey.  
  
He’ll be lucky if his fate isn’t more of what Alastair has already done to him.  
  
Death would be preferable.  
  
He pulls himself higher to look over the side of the boat, realizing how weak he’s become when his strength falters and he nearly clips his chin hard against the wooden hull. He can feel Dean shift behind him, watching him as always and probably preparing to snag him back from the edge if Cas should try to topple into the cool water.  
  
Cas huffs and shakes his head at that thought. He might be willing starve, but he will not commit suicide by drowning himself. God would not be pleased with him then.  
  
“Cas,” Dean says, his name drawn out like a warning and Cas steadfastly ignores him. He won’t give Dean the satisfaction.  
  
Cas reaches toward the water, leaning over a little farther so he can skim the surface with his fingertips. His hand grips the hull tightly, so he doesn’t fall in, but the water isn’t as far away as he thought it would be.  
  
His fingertips drag through the cool surface, bringing him a small measure of peace, and Cas lets his eyes slide closed to better enjoy the sensation.  
  
Unfortunately, the water only serves a reminder of how unbearably thirsty he’s become. His desires betray him and before he realizes what he’s doing, Cas is leaning far over the side with his hands cupped to scoop up as much water as he can hold. Water that he doesn’t need Dean to supply.  
  
Castiel feels Dean move behind him and he’s not surprised when he’s yanked backward and tossed onto the floor of the boat. “No!” Dean nearly shouts and Castiel clenches his jaw and glares, the scant amount of water he’d collected is long gone and that is entirely Dean’s fault.  
  
He and Dean glare at each other with fierce scowls etched in their features and eventually, Cas feels his eyes begin to water and his chest tightens with anger at his body’s betrayal.  
  
He fights down the swelling sense of despair in his determination to put on a brave face, but Dean notices. Of course, Dean notices.  
  
Dean’s expression softens and he shakes his head sadly. “Can’t drink salt water,” Dean says, but Castiel doesn’t understand. He recognizes the word for water, but the rest is nonsense.  
  
Cas’ brows knit together and his head tilts before he can stop himself. Cas might not understand what Dean is trying to tell him, but his words don’t sound angry or demanding. He can’t help his curiosity.  
  
Dean takes Castiel’s confusion as a sign to explain in the only way he knows how. The green-eyed man leans over the side himself and for a moment, Castiel entertains the idea of kicking out and sending Dean overboard.  
  
The consequences for such an action are the only things to stay his temper.  
  
Dean dips his fingers into the cool water and crouches in front of Castiel. Cas does his best not to recoil or flinch when Dean traces wet fingertips along his bottom lip in a strange and intimate gesture, their gazes locked on one another.  
  
Dean’s delicate touch has Cas’ breath catching in his lungs as he leaves a trail of stinging moisture along the seam of Cas’ lips. Dean’s gentle caress somehow feels worse than his rough handling.   
  
The sting that Dean’s touch leaves only serves to strengthen his fresh swell of hopeless anger.  
  
Cas’ frowns and scrunches his nose and his tongue darts out to soothe the sting before he can stop himself. He does not miss Dean’s arched brow or his faint smirk when Castiel’s tongue brushes the edge of Dean’s lingering thumb, but he refuses to dwell on it.  
  
Castiel’s eyes widen in realization and he can’t believe his mind is so addled as to think he could drink seawater. He looks to Dean, hating and yet thanking the man for preventing him from making such a foolish mistake. “Dean,” Cas doesn’t know the right words; he can only hope that Dean recognizes the humility in his tone.  
  
Dean gives him a half-smile and nods. “Not safe,” Dean says, pointing to the sea. “Saltwater,” He says again, pointing to Castiel’s lips. Cas blushes and thinks he understands, so he gives a faint nod. “Safe. No salt,” Dean says with a smile as he presses his water skin into Castiel’s hand. Cas knows he understands then, no being one of the few Norse words he knows.  
  
“No salt,” Castiel repeats back, the word feeling thick and foreign on his tongue as he wraps his fingers around the water skin. Dean’s answering smile and eager nod almost make Castiel crack a smile himself, but he stamps down on the feeling with determination.   
  
Cas’ shoulders slump in defeat. He needs water and he no longer has the strength to refuse. The small water skin is nearly full and Cas frowns down at it, wondering how much Dean would allow him to have.  
  
“Drink,” Dean urges, nodding to Cas and gesturing with his hands to take his offering.  
  
Cas lets out a sigh and closes his eyes to send a prayer for strength heavenward before he uncorks the leather pouch and tips it to his lips. He moans wantonly as the first bit of cool, fresh, water splashes over his tongue and he’s certain he’s never tasted anything so divine.  
  
Dean chuckles and watches Cas with rapt attention. The man’s gaze eventually makes Castiel self-conscious, and he lowers the nearly empty container and replaces the cork before handing it back to Dean with an embarrassed frown. Dean holds up a palm with a faint smile and refuses to take it. “Drink,” he says again, pointing to Castiel once more.  
  
“Drink?” Cas questions, voice slightly less hoarse than before and his head tilts inquisitively.  
  
“Drink,” Dean repeats, miming the motion of bringing something to his lips and swallowing.  
  
Cas takes a deep breath and nods, pointing to the pouch in his hand. “Drink. Water,” he says, trying his best to form the strange words properly. “Salt. No drink,” he says then as he points to the water surrounding the boats.  
  
Dean’s grin reaches blinding proportions and Cas can’t help but feel a hint of pride. “Yes,” Dean says with a nod. Another word Castiel knows. “Good, Cas.”  
  
Cas sucks in a breath, trying to determine how best to convey his small gratitude for Dean’s kindness. The bitter part of him wants to ignore Dean’s attempts at being civilized, but Castiel was raised to be better than that. He can’t force himself to be rude, not even when his rudeness could be justified. “Thank you,” he says in his native English, and Dean’s furrowed brow shows that he does not understand.  
  
Castiel figured as much and he frowns as he tries to think of how to get his point across. “Thank.” He bows his head respectfully before reaching to place a hand at the center of Dean’s chest. “You.” He says, hoping that his gentle tone and light touch at least shows the Viking that Castiel’s words are kind.   
  
Dean narrows his eyes and frowns but doesn’t pull away from Castiel’s timid touch. Cas remembers then, the word Dean muttered in the woods where their paths first crossed. “Gratitude. Thank you,” Cas says slowly as he chews his lip before yanking his hand back with embarrassment and turning away so he no longer has to face Dean’s confusion.  
  
Thankfully, Dean leaves him alone to brood and Cas feels like a fool for trying to explain anything.  
  
He finishes the water Dean gave him well before nightfall, and he knows he needs more if he ever hopes to regain a fraction of his strength but he is afraid to ask.  
  
His earlier mistake is downright embarrassing. He will not fool himself by assuming that Dean thinks highly of him, but he certainly has a lower opinion of him now.   
  
Castiel scowls and looks out over as he berates himself for caring what Dean might think.  
  
When the sun dips over the horizon, Dean once again eagerly holds out a piece of salted fish to Castiel and Cas wrinkles his nose at the offering. He shakes his head and mutters a quiet no. Dean’s expression darkens into something Cas fears might be anger and soon, Dean turns to exchange low words with Benny that has the other man yelling something to the surrounding boats that sound like orders.  
  
Castiel has long since figured out that Dean is the leader of this raiding party, and when the boats turn toward the distant shore, Cas feels a spark of hope. If they land, he might have a chance to escape.  
  
Or Dean might hurt him for his refusals.  
  
He risks a glance to the green-eyed man and isn’t surprised to find those eyes trained on him. Dean stares as if Castiel is a puzzle to solve. Cas musters his bravery and arches a questioning brow. Dean gives him a curt nod with his lips still set in a fine line. Cas has no idea what to make of Dean’s behavior.  
  
By the time the boats find land, Castiel’s stomach is a tangled mess of nerves and his heart races with dread.  
  
“Cas, come,” Dean says, holding a hand outward like he expects Cas to let Dean help him from the boat. Cas glares and Dean arches a brow before rolling his eyes at Castiel’s reticence. “Come,” Dean says again, tone firm and commanding.  
  
Cas frowns and stares, debating. The irritated little crease in Dean’s brow decides for him and Cas reaches for Dean’s hand quickly, not wanting to anger his captor. “I am not a dog to command,” Castiel grumbles under his breath, not caring that Dean will not understand what he’s saying.  
  
Dean’s frown morphs into a small smile when Castiel complies and Cas feels something unclench in his stomach. If he can keep Dean pleased with him, then he might be granted more flexibility. More room to chance an escape.  
  
For now, Castiel will try to be obedient and wait for Dean to let his guard down.  
  
Dean steps down from the boat without releasing Castiel’s hand and Cas stares down at the wet beach with trepidation. His legs are already trembling, and Dean expects him to take such a large step down?  
  
He sucks in a breath at the same time Dean tugs. “Come,” Dean says again, patience wearing thin. Cas holds up his free hand and swallows hard, hoping his request for a moment to gather himself is understood.  
  
Dean huffs impatiently but waits.  
  
Finally, Cas nods and takes the step, Dean still clutching his hand tightly.  
  
The ground is softer than Castiel expects and he lets out a squeak as his knees buckle. Dean quickly wraps an arm around his waist and stops him from falling. The motion brings their faces within inches of one another and Cas sees an unmistakable flare of heat in those vivid green eyes that has terror spiking anew in Castiel’s heart.  
  
Cas’ breath catches and his stomach clenches at Dean’s predatory look. He feels panic gripping him as he suddenly realizes what Dean wants with him and the thought of anyone touching him that way fills him with terror. He can’t. He won’t.  
  
Cas quickly pulls back and breaks their eye contact while trying to pull away.  
  
“Cas,” Dean says softly, refusing to release his grip on Castiel’s hand.  
  
Cas can’t breathe. His chest is tight, and his heart hammers wildly as his thoughts race. Dean will hurt him. Maybe not right now, but he will. Cas’ hand comes to his chest to help himself breathe.  
  
He can’t go through that again. He doesn’t think he would survive another attack such as Alastair committed against him.  
  
“Cas!” Dean says again, his tone urgent as Cas flails wordlessly in his grasp. Dean drags him down, getting Cas to kneel in the soft grass at the edge of the small beach. His hand holds Cas’ tighter, but his free hand comes to rest on Castiel’s shoulder as he kneels opposite the panic-stricken monk. “Breathe,” Dean says with his chin dipped low as he tries to get Cas to look at him. “Breathe.  
  
Cas goes where Dean puts him like a puppet. He doesn’t have the will to fight the man when he can’t even breathe. Dean keeps muttering nonsense in a soothing tone that Cas clings to. He hates Dean, but Dean is trying to help and Cas knows that he needs to calm down.  
  
“Dean!” Sam calls, jogging to where Dean and Cas kneel in the grass. “What’s wrong with him?”  
  
“He tripped getting out of the boat,” Dean says, shaking his head. “But I don’t know what caused this.” He looks between his brother and Castiel.  
  
“Cas,” Sam crouches in front of Castiel and reaches out to touch his shoulder. “Cas, look at me,” Sam speaks in Castiel’s language and Cas meets the man’s hazel eyes. “Take a deep breath, come on. In slow. Breathe with me,” Sam instructs as he exaggerates his breathing.  
  
Cas does his best to follow and his breathing slowly comes easier as he stares into Sam’s eyes. Sam’s gaze contains straightforward honesty and sympathy, he is easier to understand than his brother.  
  
“What happened?” Sam asks, still holding Castiel’s gaze.  
  
The weight of both brother’s hands on his shoulders and Dean’s fingers wrapped around his own serve to ground Castiel and fill him with dread at the same time. “Please don’t hurt me,” Cas mutters, begging of Sam before turning his worried gaze to Dean.  
  
Sam shakes his head with a frown. “We don’t want to hurt you,” Sam assures and Castiel notices that words are not a promise.  
  
“But Dean...he, he wants to. Like Alastair,” Cas starts before sparing Dean a quick glance as Sam cuts him off with harsh words.  
  
“He does not,” Sam says bluntly, practically a growl before turning to his brother and changing his language to Norse. “What did you do to him?” Sam grates and Cas feels vindicated despite not understanding Sam’s words.  
  
“Nothing! I swear! I just caught him when he was gonna fall!” Dean says protesting Sam’s accusation.  
  
“He’s convinced that you want to hurt him, like Alastair,” Sam says with an arched brow.  
  
Cas doesn’t understand Sam’s words, but they cause Dean to turn to him with wide eyes.  
  
“I’m don’t, I won’t!” Dean says, still staring at Cas. “Tell me how to tell him.” He turns to Sam, wide pleading eyes.  
  
Sam rolls his eyes as Cas watches their exchange intently. Dean sounds almost offended as he waves toward Cas, surely telling his brother that he will do as he pleases. Castiel’s opinion means nothing.  
  
Sam leans forward and whispers in Dean’s ear and Dean’s brow knits in concentration. His mouth moves silently as if trying to wrap his tongue around a word he doesn’t know.  
  
“Cas,” Dean starts before glancing to his brother for reassurance. “So help me, Sammy, if you’ve given me the wrong words...” Dean turns to say to his brother with a slitted gaze.  
  
Cas narrows his eyes and cocks his head. He would pull away, but Dean’s hold on his hand is still tight and immovable.  
  
“Dean,” Sam says, drawing out the name like a warning.  
  
Dean huffs and turns back to Cas. His gaze drops to their clasped hands, well, Dean’s hand is clasping Castiel’s limp one. He squeezes anyway. “Cas. I will not rape you. I promise,” Dean says slowly and full of caution.  
  
Cas stares at Dean as if he has two heads. Hearing his own language coming out of the man’s mouth is strange and Cas finds he doesn’t care for it. He swallows hard and summons his courage. “Why should I believe you? You steal us away to become what? Your slaves?” Castiel rants, spitting the words with molten venom. “You are monsters.”  
  
Sam has the nerve to look wounded by Castiel’s words and Dean looks confused but chastised. Castiel’s tone leaves no room to interpret his feelings toward Dean and his promises.  
  
“My brother is a man of his word,” Sam chides, glaring at Castiel.  
  
Cas huffs and shakes his head.  
  
“What did he say?” Dean questions, but Sam merely shakes his head.  
  
“Yes, we are bringing your brothers back as slaves. You too. We had no choice and I’m sorry for that. I hate it. I hate it so much. But Dean has decided that you will be his, and you are damn lucky for that,” Sam snarls as he leans closer to Castiel.   
  
Cas shrinks back but Sam follows. “Dean will not hurt you unless you leave him no choice. He is nothing like the man who attacked you,” Sam says slowly and carefully while Dean looks on with confusion. “You were either a dead man or Dean’s from the moment Alastair found you. Tell me, which do you think is worse?” Sam narrows his eyes, challenging Cas to choose death over Dean.  
  
Castiel feels anger swelling in his chest and he wants to lash out, to say that he would rather die than go anywhere with these Viking warriors. He swallows hard and the words die on his tongue. The truth? He doesn’t want to die.  
  
He doesn’t want to leave his home, but he wants to die even less.  
  
Sam is still waiting for an answer and Castiel closes his eyes tightly as he tries to keep his tears at bay.  
  
“Alright,” Sam says with a sense of finality when Cas withholds his answer. That is answer enough for the young Viking. “Now, are you going to keep fighting us or accept that this is your reality now?” His tone softens and Cas feels the swell of anger morphing into something far more painful.  
  
Cas lets out a heavy breath through his nose and opens his eyes to see Dean watching him with worry etched in his features. Cas hates that his expression looks so genuine. He glances down at where his fingers have somehow twined themselves with Dean’s and he pulls back sharply in surprise. Dean finally releases his hold and Cas stares at the man with wide eyes before giving Sam a faint nod.  
  
As long as Dean keeps his word of not hurting him, he’ll stop fighting until he finds an opportunity to escape.  
  
“Good,” Sam says, pushing to his feet as he runs his hands through his hair. “Good,” he repeats. “I know you don’t trust us. I get it. But please, this will go so much better for all of us if you cooperate.”  
  
Castiel frowns, hating that Sam is probably right. “I want to see my brothers,” Cas says, trying to keep his tone firm despite the trembling in his entire body. He hasn’t eaten in days, and the small bit of water Dean gave him wasn’t enough. He’s weak, in pain, and needs the comfort of people he knows. People he trusts.  
  
Sam nods and turns to Dean, relaying Castiel’s words and Dean has the gall to look wounded. Cas tries to suppress his huff, but he knows he fails when Dean’s frown deepens.  
  
“Fine,” Dean says, tone flat. “I must oversee the camp, anyway.” He gives Sam a dismissive wave and pushes to his feet. He takes another moment to stare down at where Cas still kneels in the grass and Cas cannot bear to look up at the man.  
  
“Alright, come on,” Sam gestures for Cas to follow and waits impatiently as Castiel stands on wobbly legs.  
  
Cas follows silently as Sam leads him to where the other monks have been gathered. Their brown robes stand in contrast to the Viking’s lighter pants and shirts and their huddled posture makes Castiel’s stomach squirm.  
  
“Dean will come for you later. Please don’t fight him; he’s keeping you close for your own safety. The man who attacked you, well, his brother is angry with us and we fear he might try to harm you to get back at Dean,” Sam says as he comes to a slow stop, only meters away from the cluster of monks. He turns to meet Castiel’s eyes and places a hand on Cas’ shoulder to hold him in place. “Do you understand?”  
  
Cas sucks in a deep breath. He had suspected as much but to hear Sam put his thoughts into words causes a new spike of terror in Castiel’s gut. “Then let me go. If Dean wants to keep me safe, let me go,” Cas pleads, shaking his head as he speaks.  
  
Sam sighs and shakes his head sadly. “If we do that, then in the eyes of our laws, Dean would have committed murder by executing Alastair.”  
  
“That isn’t my problem,” Castiel spits with a fierce glare.  
  
Sam huffs impatiently and clenches his jaw. “It is now,” Sam bites before he roughly grabs Castiel’s elbow and drags him forward. Cas scowls as he lets Sam manhandle him toward his brothers.  
  
Cas takes notice when Sam nods to a Viking man who appears to be standing guard over the monks, and a quick scan shows several such men in similar positions, effectively surrounding them. Cas swallows hard at the realization. There will be no escape today.  
  
“Don’t try to run off. You won’t get far,” Sam says, indicating the men Castiel has already noticed. “Dean will come for you soon. I suggest you behave.”  
  
“I am not an animal,” Cas mutters, maintaining his glare.  
  
“Doesn’t matter,” Sam grumbles. “You belong to him now.”  
  
Cas swears he can hear a current of bitterness in Sam’s tone, but he’s too angry to consider what it might mean. He had thought Sam to be the reasonable one between the two brothers, but he is no better than Dean. Cas breaks away from Sam to hurry toward his brothers, quickly falling into Inias’ waiting arms.  
  
“Castiel,” Inias says, holding Cas tightly, “what happened? How did you come to be here?”  
  
“Nias,” Cas fights back a sob. Inias has been his closest friend for years. He both hates and loves that this gentle man is here with him. None of them deserve this. “I was captured later,” Cas says as he draws back to stare into his friend’s pale blue eyes.  
  
“Why does their leader keep you from us?” Inias questions as he releases Cas from his hold. “Has he harmed you?” Inias brushes his fingers along Castiel’s cheek tenderly and Cas fights not to lean into the familiar touch.  
  
Cas grips Inias’ hand and pulls his fingers down from Cas’ cheek with a furtive glance around them. As possessive as Dean has been, he fears even attention from his brothers might draw the Viking’s anger. “He has claimed me for his own,” Cas says with a deep exhale, defeat seeping into his tone.  
  
Inias’ eyes widen and Castiel is quick to comfort the man. “Do not fret, brother, he has not harmed me.” Cas carefully leaves off the ‘yet’ at the end of his sentence.  
  
“We heard you scream.” Inias starts, eyes still wide with worry as several of the other monks circle around them.  
  
Cas takes a deep breath and nods. He refuses to tell them what misfortune befell him. “I…” He pauses and licks his lips, preparing to deliver a half-truth that may as well be a lie. “Dean beheaded someone and made me watch. It was… very upsetting,” he says with his eyes downcast and his brothers gasp with their hands covering their mouths.  
  
“Cassie!” Gabriel calls to him and shoves his way forward, nudging Inias out of the way. “Are you okay? They didn’t hurt you, did they? Sam promised me…”  
  
“Gabriel, please,” Cas mumbles, shaking his head. He brings a hand to his aching brow, the effects of dehydration making him weaken further by the moment.  
  
“Balth, get water,” Gabriel demands, and Balthazar is quick to respond, jogging to one of their keepers to make the request. He returns just as quickly with a full water skin clutched in his hand. Gabriel takes the offered pouch and immediately uncorks it to bring to Cas’ lips.  
  
Cas drinks greedily and Gabe scowls in Sam’s general direction. “That bastard. He promised they would care you for like the rest of us,” Gabe mutters crossly, temper building.  
  
“Gabriel, don’t,” Cas whispers as he finishes his water. He quickly corks the empty vessel and hands it back to Balthazar. “Dean has been… trying,” Cas says with a frown.  
  
“But you’ve been refusing food and water?” Gabriel finishes for him. He knows his brother’s mulish stubbornness all too well.  
  
Cas nods.  
  
“You fool,” Gabriel says with a glare. “You need to take care of yourself, Castiel. Do you want to die?”  
  
The others murmur around them but Castiel keeps his focus on Gabriel. “Perhaps death would be preferable,” he mutters lowly. His hopes of escape wane with each passing moment.  
  
Gabriel gives a snort of derision and shakes his head. “No, brother,” Gabriel says firmly, “our heavenly father has a plan for us. Who are we to question his will?” Gabriel says, falling back on their deeply rooted teachings. “God has not forsaken us; we only need to trust in him.”  
  
Castiel frowns. Gabriel is right. Who is he to question God’s plan? He hangs his head in defeat. If enslavement by these heathens is part of God’s will, then he shall bear it with as much dignity as he can muster.  
  
“Very well,” Castiel mutters under his breath, hating to admit defeat. He can’t help but wonder if this a test. Can he truly rely on God to deliver them from this trial? Or does God expect them to save themselves? Which is the true goal of this trial?  
  
With Castiel’s reluctant agreement, Gabriel claps him on the shoulder and wanders away to speak with the others. Inias stays close to Castiel, and Alfie settles on Castiel’s other side. Samandriel is one of the youngest in the monastery and has always looked to Castiel for guidance.  
  
Cas feels he has none to give here. He feels like a failure.  
  
“Castiel,” Alfie starts, but his next words die before they can pass his lips.  
  
“Are you well, brother?” Castiel forces himself to ask, noting the darkened circles under the young man’s eyes and his drawn complexion. None of them are well. How could they be?  
  
Alfie nods but hangs his head. “I am frightened,” he whispers and Inias hums his agreement.  
  
“I believe we all are,” Inias says, tone softer and gentler than Castiel could hope to manage.  
  
Time passes in silence with the three men drawing comfort from one another’s simple company.  
  
“Cas!” Dean’s voice cuts through the quiet and Cas’ eyes clench closed as he prays for strength.  
  
“That is Dean?” Inias asks, looking in the direction that Dean is approaching from.  
  
Cas nods his head silently as he swallows roughly, watching Dean’s approach. He finds himself frozen in place, Inias’ hand on one knee as Alfie clings to his hand.  
  
Dean’s steps are measured and his gaze is wary as he approaches. The other monks give Dean a wide berth, but Alfie and Inias stay strong in the man’s presence. “Cas,” Dean says again when he comes to a stop just in front of the three monks. His tone holds a hardened edge, but his eyes hold uncertainty when Castiel lifts his gaze to meet Dean’s.  
  
Cas frowns but gives Dean a nod to acknowledge his presence and something shifts in Dean’s gaze. Something that looks a little too much like relief for Cas to dwell on.  
  
He holds out his hand instead of barking an order, the gesture clearer than words Castiel doesn’t understand.  
  
Cas lets out a deep breath and nods, giving Inia’s hand a pat as he releases Alfie’s. “I must go,” he says softly to his brothers as he pushes to his feet.  
  
“Castiel,” Inias speaks up, earning a sharp look from Dean.  
  
“I will be alright, brother,” Castiel gives Inias a tense flinch of a smile. He doesn’t take Dean’s outstretched hand, but he gives the man an agreeing nod to signal he will follow.  
  
Cas doesn’t look back as Dean leads him away. He squares his shoulders and attempts to face whatever comes next with strength and dignity. Other Norse men and women give him curious glances as Dean leads him through the camp, but none try to approach or let their gazes linger. Cas has the feeling from their behavior that Dean or Sam have warned them off.  
  
“Cas okay?” Dean questions, the word of Castiel’s language sounding stilted on Dean’s tongue.  
  
Cas pinches a frown but nods. He is as okay as he can be, considering the circumstances.  
  
“Water?” Dean turns his head to ask, brow arched to make it clear he’s asking for a response.  
  
Cas’ mouth drops open slightly, but he hesitates. Is Dean asking him if wants water, or if he’s had water? He doesn’t know what answer to give. He’s still thirsty, he needs more. “Yes?” He mutters in Norse, hoping that his answer gets him what he wants.  
  
The agreeable phrase nearly causes Cas physical pain to mutter, but he promised to be cooperative and admitting his needs is the first step.  
  
Dean’s answering smile has a modicum of tension draining from the set of Cas’ shoulders. “Good,” Dean says with a pleased note coloring his tone. Dean glances to Cas as if noticing his intent to follow a step behind, and Dean frowns slightly.  
  
Cas startles when Dean reaches to hold his elbow but he stills his panic and allows Dean’s touch when he reminds himself to be pliant and obey.  
  
Dean’s touch remains feather-light and gentle, and although the man is guiding him, Cas can almost convince himself that Dean isn’t touching him at all.  
  
Castiel trudges along beside his captor, eyes focused on the path ahead. There are moments, mainly when Dean smiles at him, that Castiel could almost see the two of them becoming friends. There is a quiet strength about the man that Castiel finds himself drawn to despite his circumstance.  
  
Dean may be a lot of things, but Castiel cannot find it in himself to continue believing the man to be cruel.  
  
Perhaps Sam was right. If Castiel’s own foolishness landed him in this situation, perhaps he is lucky that Dean took an interest in him.  
  
As long as Dean keeps his promises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Tuesday all! I hope you've enjoyed the update and have a great rest of the week. As always, thank you for reading and I would love to hear your thoughts.


	5. Shameless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean leads Cas away from camp and exposes him to something that confounds his sensibilities and challenges his continued hatred of Dean. Back at camp, Cas commits a minor act of disobedience.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter immediately follows chapter four so I decided to post it today instead of waiting an entire week. I hope y'all don't mind. Next week, the journey North shall resume.

The path Dean chooses for them through the trees is lit with dappled sunlight and pale shadows that dance as the breeze rustles the leaves above. The forest is all but silent save for the crunch of leaves between their feet as they meander away from camp. Gnarled branches and thorns tug on Castiel’s robes like fingers grabbling to hold him back and steal him from Dean if only the Viking would release his elbow.

Cas huffs when he realizes that he can’t quite remember how many days have passed since Dean destroyed Castiel’s quiet life and he wonders what his brothers who were left behind are doing. Are they mourning those taken? Have they begun rebuilding? Do they even know that he, Castiel, was stolen away too?

“Cas,” Dean’s gentle tone cuts through Castiel’s thoughts and he turns to blink at the man, surprised to find they’ve come to a stop at the edge of the forest. “Cas, water,” Dean says, eyeing Castiel cautiously.

Castiel can feel his cheeks heat as he realizes how lost in his thoughts he was. How long had Dean been talking to him? He nods and drops his gaze, but not before noticing the slowly moving river just a handle of meters away.

The water is broad and running smoothly through a cut of the forest. The bank is shallow where they approach, and the shallow water is crystal clear. Grey boulders litter the shore and disturb the water’s edge while birds soar carelessly overhead.

Castiel swallows hard as he takes in the idyllic scene. If he were here of his own free will, he would find the isolation beautiful and calming. He wouldn’t hesitate to sit at the water’s edge and lose himself to the passing of time as he basks in the gentle sunlight.

“Cas,” Dean says as he places a hand on Castiel’s shoulder and ruins the peaceful illusion. “Clean,” Dean mutters as he drags his fingers across Castiel’s shoulder to his chin before guiding Castiel’s gaze from the river to meet Dean’s eyes.

Cas swallows hard, barely meeting Dean’s gaze as his heart begins to hammer wildly. He doesn’t know what “clean” means and he fights the strong urge to pull away from Dean’s touch.

“We need to wash,” Dean says, holding Castiel’s chin in place as their gazes meet.

Cas narrows his eyes and feels the way his head cocks of its own accord despite Dean’s light hold. He has no idea what Dean means. Cas shakes his head minutely and Dean releases him with a confused frown. “I don’t understand,” Cas mutters in his native English, carefully holding Dean’s gaze to try to show that he is confused, not insolent.

Dean sighs deeply and shakes his head before scrubbing a hand over his thickly stubbled jaw. “Wash,” Dean says, the word drawn out and slow. He takes a step back from Castiel before he quickly strips his shirt over his head and casts it aside.

Cas gasps and stumbles back, eyes wide with fear. He should have known better than to think he could trust this man. “No,” Cas says frantically, shaking his head as he holds up his hands.

Dean begins working on the fastenings of his trousers but his fingers stall when he sees Castiel beginning to devolve into panic. “No, Cas,” Dean says quickly, shaking his head and holding out a hand. “Wash,” He says again, pointing to the water.

Cas continues to back away and nearly screams when Dean launches himself forward and grabs his hand. “No!” Cas demands, tugging and pulling to escape. It’s no use, Dean’s grip may as well be an iron manacle. Cas barely has the strength to mount a resistance, let alone save himself. “No, no, no,” He repeats like a mantra as Dean drags him closer to the water.

Dean presses him against a tree, holding him there with his bare arm braced across Castiel’s chest. Cas’ lungs struggle to draw in air and he’s powerless to do anything but wait for Dean to strike. “Stay,” Dean says firmly, pressing his arm harder against Cas for emphasis.

Dean steps back and Castiel struggles to obey. He knows he can’t run. Dean would sound the alarm and he’d be caught immediately.

Cas doesn’t want to consider what his punishment might be for defying Dean.

“Good,” Dean says with a nod, his tone pleased.

Castiel clenches his eyes closed when Dean’s fingers deftly undo the series of laces holding his linen pants aloft.

He waits for Dean to grab him but the touch never comes.

Slowly, Cas cracks one eye open and is greeted with the sight of Dean’s pale backside walking away from him. His eyes fly open in confusion and his cheeks flush crimson as he watches the naked man slowly enter the stream.

In his younger years, he may have watched with an interest that he would never dare to act upon, but Dean is his enemy. He shouldn’t look. He shouldn’t even entertain the notion that Dean is worthy of his attention but he can’t help the way his eyes track the man’s movement with something other than fear stirring in his chest.

Dean seems to have no interest in molesting him.

“Wash!” Dean calls out as he turns to face Castiel and Cas’ cheeks heat painfully at the sight. He crouches in the stream and cups water in his hands to let spill over his nude form, scrubbing with his hands as he goes.

Cas lets out a startled squawk when his eyes betray him by staring openly between Dean’s spread thighs. He clenches his eyes and forces himself to breathe, only to be interrupted by Dean’s amused laughter.

Cas forces his eyes open and makes a steadfast attempt to keep his eyes on Dean’s face. Not his... no. Cas can’t even let his mind wander down that path. Wash. Castiel thinks he understands the word now as Dean scrubs himself with handfuls of fresh water. Does the man have no shame?

“Cas, come!” Dean calls to him, waving an arm to beckon him closer with an amused smirk on his sun-kissed face.

“No, Dean,” Cas says, proud that his voice only trembles slightly. He cannot take part in Dean’s bathing. Being nude around another is so inappropriate! He can't possibly. He shakes his head, dispelling the thought.

“Cas,” Dean’s voice turns into a petulant whine that has Cas looking again against his will, puzzled by how such a brute of a man has managed to cast his voice into the register of a petulant child.

“No,” Cas shakes his head even as his feet take him a step closer.

Dean shows no sign of shame or concern as he stands completely nude in the river for anyone to see and Castiel’s confusion wars with his desire to escape.

Dean is in no position to chase him now.

He could run.

A sharp twist of fear makes itself known in Castiel’s gut at the thought.

Even if he did run, he doesn’t know where they are or where he would go. Something worse than Dean could be waiting for him.

He can’t abandon his brothers.

Cas forces himself to edge closer while keeping his gaze downcast but his attention remains fixated on Dean, watching warily for the man to make a move toward him.

Dean stands perfectly still as Castiel crouches at the water’s edge. A fleeting stab of pain has Cas biting back a cry and Dean flinching toward him before stopping himself, green eyes wide as he worries his lower lip.

Cas does his best to ignore Dean’s concern.

He’s _fine._

Cas pushes up the sleeves of his robe and runs the cool water over his bare forearms and he groans at the coolness of the water over his heated skin. Dean wasn’t entirely wrong; the cleansing water is soothing and Cas is glad for the opportunity to freshen up after so many days at sea.

Dean’s bare skin glistens in the sunlight as he moved toward shore and Cas feels his mouth go dry at the sight of those strong muscles gliding under taut skin. His cheeks flame hotter and Cas ducks his head, daring to let Dean out of his sight in favor of hiding the way his eyes linger too long over the other man’s form.

“What is wrong with me?” Cas grumbles to himself as he makes a show of splashing the water over his arms. Dean is his enemy.

The devil comes in tempting forms and this barbarian is one of them.

Cas turns so that his back is to Dean, both to hide his shame and prevent himself from sneaking another look. The fine hairs on the back of his neck prickle as he listens to Dean moving behind him. He will _not_ look.

“Cas,” Dean says just as his shadow falls over the sun, shading Castiel as he remains crouched by the water. Water drips from Dean’s skin and soaks into Cas’ robes, leaving nearly black spots amongst the brown that have Cas narrowing his eyes in annoyance.

Cas looks up and swallows hard. Dean has tugged his pants on but the fabric clings to his damp skin, leaving little to the imagination as Cas forces his gaze upward. Dean’s chest is still bare so Cas keeps tilting his chin until those shockingly green eyes come into view.

Dean drops to a crouch in front of him and reaches a hand to brush a damp lock of hair from Castiel’s brow. “You don’t want to wash?” Dean asks, tilting his head to match Castiel’s confused expression.

Cas swallows hard, not understanding all of Dean’s words.

“You,” Dean repeats in Norse as he presses his hand against Castiel’s chest. “You,” Dean says again and Cas’ brow furrows as he struggles not to pull away.

“You?” Cas says, pointing to himself and Dean scowls as he shakes his head.

“No,” Dean says, frustration beginning to color his tone.

Cas huffs with a frown, thoughts churning to decipher Dean’s meaning.

“You,” Dean says again with his hand against Castiel’s chest before withdrawing and placing it over his own heart. “Me.”

Cas cocks his head. “Me?” Cas repeats as he mirrors Dean’s stance. Dean’s blinding grin tells him that he’s understood so he takes a chance and points to Dean. “You?”

Dean’s grin widens further than Castiel had thought possible and he can’t help but give the man a slight smile in return. “Yes, Cas!” Dean says with a firm nod. “You wash too,” Dean says, still grinning excitedly.

Cas frowns and tilts his head, not knowing how to tell Dean he already has.

Cas squawks and tumbles back when Dean reaches for the belt around his waist and tugs as if planning on undressing him. “No!” Cas cries out as pain and panic lance through him. He scrambles back but Dean simply holds his hands up in a placating gesture. Cas watches Dean with wide eyes as the man holds out a hand to him.

“Cas,” Dean says softly. “I promised,” Dean says in Castiel’s language, the words coming slow and stiff.

Cas continues to stare, waiting for Dean to make a move but the Viking doesn’t budge and Castiel doesn’t understand what game Dean is playing.

“Come,” Dean urges gently, stretching his hand closer to Cas.

Cas inches away, still watching Dean cautiously and something inside him deflates the same time Dean’s shoulders sag in defeat. Dean stands and takes step back, giving Cas some much-needed space.

“I know you’re afraid,” Dean begins, watching Castiel with a sad expression before huffing a self-deprecating laugh. He glances down, Castiel’s foot barely in his line of sight. “I won’t hurt you unless I have to.”

Castiel watches curiously, not understanding a word of what Dean is saying but his tone is calm and soothing. Cas feels a pang of guilt deep in his stomach before he squashes it down. He refuses to feel guilty for hurting Dean’s feelings. Not after what Dean has done to him.

Cas pushes to his feet with an indignant huff and he barely flinches when Dean steps into his space and digs into his robe pocket to pull out the skin for water that Cas had tucked there. “Fill,” Dean says, wagging the thing in front of Castiel’s face before pointing to the river. “Mine too,” He continues as he ambles to his discard shirt and then tosses his empty water skin to Castiel.

Whatever moment they might have almost shared is gone.

Cas narrows his eyes into a glare and clenches his jaw as Dean’s water skin falls to the ground without Cas attempting to catch it. Dean’s meaning is clear enough and Castiel is not at all pleased to be told what to do by this hedonistic monster of a man.

Dean arches a demanding brow and matches his glare.

Castiel finally gives in with a huff and bends to scoop the empty vessel from the pebbled ground. He makes short work of filling the containers and he decides to drink his once before refilling it. Just to test Dean’s patience.

By the time he hikes back to Dean, the man is fully dressed and waiting with his arms crossed, green eyes boring into Castiel.

Cas almost violently shoves the now full water skin into Dean’s chest, leaving the man to grab it roughly or risk dropping the container to the ground.

Dean grunts with the force of Castiel’s outburst but attaches his water skin to his belt without comment and turns his attention back to Cas. “Eat?” Dean questions, miming the motion of eating.

Cas rolls his eyes. “I know that word,” he grumbles in his native tongue. “I’m not an idiot,” he continues to mutter despite Dean’s confused expression. He huffs and rolls his eyes so vehemently that his head moves with them. “Yes. Eat. Please,” He says, using words of Dean’s language.

Dean smiles, looking overly pleased and Cas thinks that maybe doing as Dean tells him won’t be quite so terrible if he’s rewarded with that happy little smile. The way his green eyes almost glow in the sunlight and the faint dusting of freckles over his nose is somehow endearing and every time Dean’s smiles.

Castiel almost forgets how terrible a monster the man can be.

Cas reprimands himself for his errant thoughts and resolves to never forget.

“Come,” Dean says, waving his arm with his unwavering smile when Castiel takes a step toward him. Dean slings an arm around Cas’ shoulders and pulls him close without another word.

Cas stiffens but allows Dean’s touch. He’s careful to keep as much space between them as Dean will allow on their way to rejoin the others but Dean insists on keeping them shoulder to shoulder, constantly touching and Castiel’s skin crawls at the contact.

Dean doesn’t release his hold until they’ve returned to the center of camp and Dean orders him down next to a set of bedrolls that Cas can only assume belong to Dean and his brother. “Stay,” Dean orders before turning to walk away.

Cas shifts and tries to find comfort on the hard-packed earth while scanning his surroundings. His knees ache from the hard wooden planks of the boat and sitting on his bottom causes his eyes to water from the lancing pain of his injuries.

Several men and women look at him questioningly as his restlessness makes itself known and Cas instinctively shrinks back from the watchful gaze of the Vikings. He’s alone and any one of them could wish him harm. The ground beneath him is damp and hard. He’s tired of sitting but Dean’s order was clear.

Castiel debates the merits of being slightly disobedient but a sharp stabbing pain lancing up his leg decides for him. Cas slowly pushes to his feet, watching the men and women around him for signs of violence but he sees nothing beyond a handful of curious glances.

A broad tree stands alone barely ten paces from where Dean left him and Castiel carefully steps to it and leans against the trunk. His heart races at his simple act of disobedience, but he feels safer with something solid at his back. No one seems to be concerned about his carefully measured movements so Castiel stays where he is and enjoys the simple act of standing.

“Cas,” Benny snaps from across the clearing as he strides toward him.

Castiel tenses but holds his ground and swallows hard as he watches the other man approach.

Benny comes to stop only inches from Castiel and the two men glare at one another in a battle of wills. “Dean told you to stay,” Benny says bluntly, pointing to the spot next to the bedrolls.

_Dean_ and s_tay_ are the only parts of Benny’s words that Cas understands but he doesn’t respond to the man’s irritated tone. He doesn’t know the right words even if he wanted to say something.

Benny continues to glare for a moment until something shifts in his gaze and he claps a hand over Castiel’s shoulder and flashes a faint smile. A quick nod and Benny is gone, leaving Cas to wonder what just happened.

Cas catches a glimpse of Dean in the distance, seemingly locked in an argument with his brother. His arms wave dramatically and Sam points a stern finger into Dean’s chest before shooting a glance across the clearing to where Castiel was told to wait.

Even from this distance, Castiel sees Sam blanch and point to the spot Castiel had formally occupied and Dean’s razor-sharp glare follows Sam’s pointing finger.

_Shit_. Castiel curses under his breath, realizing that surely Dean is already thinking he had tried to run. Already, he can see Dean quickly scanning the clearing for him and Castiel’s heart lodges in his chest. Moving was a mistake. A terrible, terrible mistake.

Cas forces a deep breath to steel his resolve before he steps away from his tree and raises his arms high, waving his hands to draw Dean’s attention. Inwardly, he hates that he’s revealing himself when he would rather watch Dean fret, but the potential consequences are too dire.

Sam notices him first and quickly smacks Dean’s shoulder and points. A whirlwind of emotions flash across Dean’s features before settling on clench-jawed anger.

Cas fights his instinct to run as Dean stomps over to him, fists balled at his sides with Sam at his heels. As it is, Castiel’s feet guide him back to the tree without his input and he curses his stupidity yet again when he feels the rough bark at his back.

“I told you to stay!” Dean snarls the instant he comes close enough to not need to yell. A crowd of other Vikings looks on. The confrontation between Dean and one of the monks must be far more interesting than setting up camp.

“Dean, calm down,” Sam urges, trying to stay his brother with a firm grip on the man’s shoulder.

Cas fights down the terror gripping his heart and forces his chin to stay raised, meeting Dean’s glare with one of his own. “I wanted to stand,” Castiel says in the most defiant tone he can muster.

Dean glances to Sam. The grinding of his teeth is nearly audible with the way the muscles of his jaw bunch and quiver but turns back to Castiel before the younger man can say anything. “I told you to stay!” Dean reaches out to grasp Castiel’s elbow and drags him the few steps to where he had originally left him. “Right! Here!”

“Dean,” Sam says, trying to interrupt.

“No!” Cas rips his arm out of Dean’s grasp and glares at the man, breathing heavily. “I needed to stand!”

“Dean,” Sam tries again.

“Shut it Sam!” Dean growls and Sam’s expression shifts from curious to furious in the scant time it takes for the words to leave Dean’s mouth.

“No, Dean!” Sam fires back and Castiel’s eyes widen. “Listen to him!” Sam says, gesturing to Cas. “He didn’t try to run. He moved only a few paces!” Sam waves his arms over his head and Cas takes a cautious step back, not understanding a word of what Sam is saying to Dean.

Dean’s jaw drops, dumbfounded, before he snaps his mouth closed and glares at his brother.

“Cas,” Sam says, turning away from Dean. “Dean is angry that you moved, can you tell me why you disobeyed him?” Sam’s tone is a mockery of calm, but he places himself between his brother and his prisoner.

Cas is taken aback by Sam’s question. He had been prepared to be yelled at, tied up. Beaten maybe. Even if Sam is too tense to be as calm as he sounds, he is at least trying to convince Cas that he has a chance. “Sitting hurts,” Cas finally says, deciding to keep his words simple.

Sam pinches a frown but nods. “Your injuries?” He cocks his head, concern beginning to make itself known via a crease in the man’s brow.

Cas nods. “And sitting for days in the boats. I just wanted to stretch my legs. I wasn’t trying to run or be disobedient. I just needed...” Cas begins to ramble and trails off with a sigh.

Dean expression falls as Sam translates Castiel’s reasons and the Viking looks almost sad. His shoulders droop and the corners of Dean’s eyes soften as the anger bleeds out of him. “Ok,” Dean mutters with a nod, waving at Cas and his tree. “Cas can stand,” Dean meets Castiel’s eyes as he says the words, but Cas finds himself looking to Sam for meaning.

Sam flinches a smile and nods. “It’s ok. Dean understands. Just don’t try to go anywhere ok?” _Don’t run_ is what Sam is really saying and Cas knows it.

“I won’t,” Cas promises, swallowing hard around the defeat threatening to choke him. He looks around the budding camp, men and women with heavy weapons are settling in all around him and Cas swallows hard at the sight of a small group toting long and deadly looking bows. His brothers are huddled in one area far from Castiel, guarded. As much as he hates his predicament, escape appears impossible unless he is willing to die for his freedom.

Dean stalks away angrily and Sam shrugs before turning to follow his brother, leaving Castiel seemingly unattended once again. He leans back against his tree with a ragged sigh, barely fighting back tears as despair threatens to swallow him whole.

He loses track of how much time passes until Dean returns, but even then, the green-eyed man barely spares Castiel a glance. He settles on the ground with his back to Castiel and tears into a large hunk of freshly roasted meat.

Castiel stares for a moment with his stomach grumbling angrily and his mouth waters when the rich aroma wafts toward him. His stubbornness wars with his body’s demands as he considers his options.

He needs to eat but his stomach threatens revolt at the thought of asking Dean for anything. He refuses to beg like a dog.

He swallows hard and buries his pride as he walks to Dean and silently sinks to his knees in the grass with his head bowed in hopes that Dean will offer him sustenance.

The smell of Dean’s roasted deer causes Castiel’s stomach to growl and cramp without mercy. He can’t remember the last time he ate, probably supper at the Abbey the evening before everything changed. How long ago was that? Three days? Four?

Dean doesn’t spare him a glance and Castiel struggles to hold his stoic silence.

He will not give Dean the satisfaction of begging.

His ears remain focused intently on the sounds around him and when Dean lets out a small huff, Castiel cannot help but shift uncomfortably. The rustle of fabric soon follows and Castiel’s pulse quickens with the hope that maybe Dean is going to share but he still refuses to turn his head.

“Eat,” Dean says, tossing something into Castiel’s lap.

Cas hurries to catch whatever Dean’s given him but disappointment swells in his starving stomach when he eyes the palm-sized piece of dry fish and he fails to fight back a whimper of disappointment.

The fish reeks of death and rot. Castiel’s stomach roils with aversion as the sharp stench seeps into his nose. He has witnessed others eat the foul item, even Dean himself. Perhaps the taste isn’t as repelling as the odor?

Cas glares at Dean’s offering. He wants to throw it right back at the man and demand something better, but his hunger stays his hand and he gives the salted fish a cursory sniff. His stomach recoils at the pungent aroma and his nose scrunches as he lowers the fish back to his lap with a disappointed huff.

He may be starving, but he has serious doubts that his stomach will tolerate an offense so great as this fish.

Cas takes a deep breath, mainly so he doesn’t need to breathe while attempting to follow Dean’s command and takes a cautious nibble from the edge.

The taste isn’t as awful as Cas was expecting and his stomach seems to immediately recognize the fish as sustenance and demands he eat more.

“Dean, you’re an ass,” Sam’s displeased voice comes from above and Cas jumps in surprise. He was so focused on the fish that he had failed to notice the younger Viking approach. “Cas, here. Take this,” Sam says as Cas looks up to see the man offering him what appears to be one of the most delicious things Castiel has ever seen.

He swallows hard and reaches to take the large, steaming hunk of meat from Sam’s hand. “Thank you,” Castiel says, meeting Sam’s eyes with as much gratitude in his expression as he can muster.

“Tryin to teach ‘im a lesson, Sammy,” Dean grumbles with a mouth full of food. Sam’s sharp scowl lets Cas know that he probably doesn’t want to know what the man is saying.

Sam settles next to Castiel and glares at his brother as Cas tears a hunk of meat from the larger piece with his teeth. The venison is tough, clearly too fresh, but the grease and char from the from fire make it the best-tasting thing Cas has ever eaten and he hurries to chew his mouthful so he can have more.

“Slow down, Cas,” Sam urges and Cas turns his gaze to the man as he swallows hard. There is wisdom to Sam’s words and Cas gives him a nod and forces himself to chew slower and give his stomach a chance to adjust.

Dean gives him a weak glare that Castiel does his best to ignore.

Let Sam undermine him. Perhaps at least one of the Norsemen aren’t complete barbarians.


	6. Homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nearing the end of the journey north, Castiel and Dean lose what little patience they have left for each other but they manage to come to an uneasy truce with some help from Benny. Later, then they reach their destination, more challenges unfold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Thursday! I hope everyone is having a good week. I don't have any content warnings for you this week beyond some very minor violence and uncomfortable discussions regarding what Alastair did to Cas and the consequences of such.

As before, Dean keeps Castiel at his feet in the boat. The wooden hull is uncomfortable under his knees but Castiel glares at Dean with unadulterated hatred in his eyes every time the man pats the bench next to him, offering Cas a seat.

Dean only shrugs and allows Cas to stew in his anger as the days drag on.

“Cas, eat.” Dean tosses yet another hunk of dry and salty fish into Castiel’s lap. They seem to be locked in an endless cycle of disagreement. Cas refuses Dean’s thrice daily offer of a place on the bench, and Dean withholds the smoked hunks of venison that Cas _knows_ is in Dean’s pack.

Cas’ stomach quails with hopelessness at the sight of another piece of the putrid fish and his cheeks flush with a fresh wave of irritation before he sighs in defeat.

He clenches his jaw and does his best to ignore Dean, but he nudges Cas with his foot and calls his name incessantly. Castiel’s patience stretches thinner than parchment at Dean’s continued demands for him to eat.

He has been purposefully waiting until Dean sleeps each night to nibble on the meager portions he’s been given each day. A fact Dean either hasn’t noticed or is displeased with.

Either way, Castiel refuses to consider Dean’s feelings.

Eating under Dean’s watchful gaze makes his skin crawl. The way Dean smiles softly and nods every time Castiel deigns to obey him makes Cas want to scream. Being forced to eat something not fit for dogs and then praised for his humiliation causes a sharp ache in his chest where his dignity lives.

Castiel sucks in a deep breath and silently prays for strength and patience as he pushes the fish aside to save for later. His stomach demands food but each small mouthful of fish is protested violently.

More than once Cas has had to hold a hand tight over his mouth to keep the fish _in._

He refuses to let his last bit of pride falter and allow Dean to witness his suffering.

“Cas!” Dean barks as he nudges Castiel in the thigh firmly with his boot. “EAT,” he demands as he reaches down to pick up the discarded fish and shove it under Castiel’s nose.

White-hot anger sparks to life in Cas’ chest and his vision begins to darken around the edges as his pulse pounds in his ears. “No!” He growls as he surges forward to wrench the offending food, if you can even call it that, from Dean’s hands and heaves it overboard. He turns back to glare at Dean, breaths labored and meets Dean’s surprised expression with a sense of satisfaction.

After a beat of open-mouthed floundering, Dean lets out a low growl and surges forward to tackle Castiel to the floor of the boat.

Strong fingers wrap tightly around Castiel’s throat and for a moment, he thinks this may be the end. Dean is finally going to kill him.

“No,” Dean growls, squeezing Castiel’s throat just enough to hinder his ability to breath. He draws one hand back, prepared to strike when Benny’s strong fingers wrap around Dean’s wrist to halt his motion.

Cas’ heart races as he watches Benny stay Dean’s hand. Dean looks furious, and Benny wears a stern expression that brooks no argument.

“Hold your temper, brother,” Benny warns and gives Dean a shove, dislodging him from where he straddles Castiel’s hips.

Cas stares at the two men as he scrambles to his feet, struggling to balance on wobbly knees. His breaths come in ragged heaves and his rage simmers just below the flashpoint. He isn’t above trying to throw Dean overboard if he tries to grab for him again.

“That fish is makin him sick,” Benny continues, gesturing with his chin toward Castiel. Cas narrows his eyes, not understanding what Benny is saying to diffuse Dean. “He’s been damn near pukin his guts out every night after you lay down,” Benny continues and Dean’s jaw drops open slightly and his hard-edged anger evaporates.

“I didn’t know,” Dean mutters with widened eyes, watching his friend carefully. His expression has paled significantly and he looks toward Cas with his brows drawn and a small frown.

Cas does his absolute best to hold back his growl of frustration. They’re talking about him. He knows they are. But he has no idea _what_ they’re saying beyond it appearing that Benny has come to his rescue.

“Cas,” Dean says quietly, turning back to the still fuming monk. “I didn’t know.”

Cas narrows his eyes but doesn’t otherwise acknowledge Dean’s words.

Dean lets out a frustrated huff and turns to the pack at his side.

When he turns back, he’s holding a small chunk of smoked venison and he slowly extends the offering to Castiel. “Eat?” Dean asks, his tone hesitant as he ducks his gaze.

Cas sucks in a breath and his eyes widen at Dean’s sudden change of tone and posture. He would love nothing more than to refuse the man but the hunger gnawing at his gut and Benny’s pleading gaze soften the edges of his ire.

He forces himself to swallow his pride and give a nod of acceptance as he allows Dean to place the piece of meat into his open palm. He wants to tuck it into his pocket to eat after nightfall when Dean lays down to rest but the untrusting look in those green eyes has him swallowing hard as his fingers close around the palm-size piece of meat.

Dean’s outburst still has Castiel’s heart hammering wildly and he knows to reject this meager portion would likely bring a resurgence of Dean’s anger. He pinches a frown but nods before turning his back to Dean to gain as much privacy as possible on the open-topped boat. Their scuffle has drawn everyone’s attention, even those on the other boats and Castiel’s cheeks heat with embarrassment.

The heavy breath Dean releases is audible and Benny speaks to the man quietly as Cas takes a careful bite of the venison.

The flavor of smoke and fat explodes across his tongue and he moans with pleasure despite the way his stomach still threatens revolt at the sheer richness of the food after being so hungry for so long.

Each bite goes down easier than the last and he finishes sooner than he had expected while his stomach rumbles for more. He’s certain that he will never be free from this perpetual gnawing deep in his gut. Not while he’s being held captive.

Dean leaves him alone for the rest of the day and Cas is grateful for the respite. Looking at the man fills him with barely concealable rage and Castiel isn’t certain how much more he can take before he loses control of his actions.

Cas is left undisturbed until he takes the final sip from his water skin and Dean lightly taps his shoulder and holds out his hand.

Cas sighs and frowns but hands over the empty vessel for Dean to refill without complaint. He doesn’t have the fortitude to fight Dean over his willingness to treat him properly.

Water has been the one thing Dean has been adequately providing since their singular night ashore.

Even so, Cas does his best to ignore the other man’s presence as he stares out over the open water and lets his thoughts wander.

At dawn the next morning, the small fleet of Viking longboats enters the mouth of a wide river and Castiel watches their proceedings with deep trepidation. During the night, the shore crept closer under the cover of darkness and the lush green foliage taunts Castiel and his desires to be anywhere else.

Even if he were to break free from these Vikings, he has no idea where they are or how to get home. What would stop someone else from taking him hostage? He swallows hard at the thought and the spike of fear in his gut cuts deeper than ever.

Dean offers him another hunk of venison as the sun creeps over the trees, a larger one this time, and Castiel takes the offering with little hesitation.

He falls back against the hull, clutching his prize as he stares at Dean with wide eyes.

“Good,” Dean says with a soft smile when Castiel begins to eat without further prompting and Cas does his best to tamp down his frustration at the simple praise.

Cas watches Dean as he nibbles on the dried meat, noting how the man’s face seems to be slimmer than before and his freckles stand out more than Cas has seen them. Dean arches a brow as Cas stares but he otherwise lets him look without comment.

If Dean is allowed to stare, then Cas will too.

By the time Cas finishes his food and washes it down with the last of his water, Dean is still staring stoically ahead. The others in the boat are eating their morning rations, but Dean took nothing for himself.

Cas can’t help but wonder why before he shoves down the thought and shakes his head in self-disgust.

Dean’s eating habits are not of import.

The sun creeps higher and the boats glide silently through the water. The sounds of the forest surround them, birds and other small critters scurrying about their business with little care for the boats drifting by. Once, Castiel spies a deer on the far shore and he silently envies her freedom.

By the time the sun dips below the trees, a village comes into view and causes Castiel’s heart to stutter with dread. The increasing murmur of voices and an outbreak of joyous song tells Castiel everything he needs to know.

They have arrived.

“Home, Cas,” Dean says as he places an unwelcome hand on Castiel’s shoulder.

Cas shrugs him off with a well-aimed glare and turns to stare at the welcoming party beginning to gather on the sandy beach with a hollow feeling in his chest.

\---

*Dean*

Dean huffs but lets the monk stew a little bit longer. He understands Castiel’s anger as much as Dean hates it. Castiel is beautiful in his defiance and Dean finds himself _not_ wanting to break the man. Cas will belong to Dean and he will have to learn to accept that his place is now at Dean’s side, but Dean doesn’t want to lose that fire in the man’s eyes.

The boats beach themselves with a gentle lurch and the raiding party begins to pile out with whoops of joy and praises to the gods for their safe journey home. Dean wishes he could share in their celebration, but he has a duty to his Jarl first and foremost.

He needs to find Samuel.

“Come,” Dean demands as he tugs Castiel from the boat. Cas flinches under Dean’s touch but Dean ignores the monk’s hesitation as he drags him to the group of the other monks. Dean's lips curl upward slightly when Cas doesn’t try to pull away from him, so he keeps his hold light as a reward.

Castiel is beautiful in so many ways. His crystal-clear blue eyes that rival the sea for depth, the nearly chestnut-colored hair that Dean’s fingers itch to feel, the firm set of his jaw in his stubbornness and his voice…oh that deep and rough voice that makes Dean’s stomach clench just to hear.

Dean’s faint smile morphs into a frown when he considers that his desire is one-sided. Dean remembers a few words from his earliest childhood days, but Castiel’s tone says enough. The majority of his few words are hard and tinged with anger but each time Castiel’s tone softens and the intense hatred in his eye dims, Dean feels as if the sun is shining down on him in the middle of a cold winter’s day and he longs for more.

“Stay,” Dean says as he shoves Cas into Gabriel’s arms.

Castiel stumbles but keeps his silence and allows his brother to keep him from toppling to the ground from Dean’s harsh treatment.

Dean resists the urge to look back as he heads directly for his father’s longhouse with nausea roiling deep in his gut. He will need to face judgment for his actions against Alastair and he prays that he is permitted to take Castiel for his own.

He loathes letting Castiel out of his sight, but he cannot afford for his father to witness his obvious favor for the monk.

“Father,” Dean kneels as he enters the great hall where Samuel is perched on his throne-like chair awaiting homage.

“Dean,” Samuel gives a slow nod and Dean pushes to his feet. “I am pleased to see you safely home. I trust your journey was successful,” Samuel says with a questioning look, not bothering to rise to greet his son.

Dean swallows hard, knowing that Samuel’s words are a carefully measured expectation, not a question. “Yes, sir. The monastery held fewer riches than we anticipated, but we were able to return with several of the monks as cargo,” Dean explains, fighting down his own emotions.

“How many?” Samuel frowns as he grips the arms of his chair tighter.

“Eleven,” Dean answers, clenching his jaw tightly as he prepares himself to make his request.

“Dean!” Sam calls as he pushes through the door to join his brother.

Samuel looks up with a faint smile, his clear preference for the younger of his sons is shown in the way his eyes light up at Sam’s presence.

“Father,” Sam stops at his brother’s side and lowers his chin in deference.

Samuel rises from his chair and draws Sam into a rough embrace while Dean clenches his jaw tightly, begging the gods for grace and patience.

Dean is Samuel’s heir, that is recognition enough.

“Sam, welcome home,” Samuel says with a smile as he claps Sam’s shoulder and returns to his seat. “Tell me about the raid,” he encourages, his tone much lighter now that his favorite son has joined them.

Dean takes a deep breath. He knows that Sam will support him. “We found a wealth of texts that Sam wishes to study, as well as several treasures from the monastery. The monks we brought back include one who speaks our language and he has already been helping Sam with the others. I feel the monk, Gabriel, would be an asset to Sam’s studies if that would please you, my lord,” Dean says, keeping his tone even. He already knows that Samuel will deny Sam nothing.

“Very well. The monk is yours, Sam. Tell me, Dean, was your leadership adequate?” Samuel’s eyes narrow as if he already knows about Alastair and Dean’s brash decision to execute the man.

Dean sucks in a deep breath, preparing to answer. He’s gone over a speech in his mind dozens of times, but his words fail him as he stands before his father’s judgmental gaze.

“The others were glad to follow Dean’s leadership, sir,” Sam speaks before Dean can formulate the words. “You may be pleased to know that Alastair, son of Asmodeus, is no more. He stepped out of line from our laws and justice was delivered swiftly,” Sam goes on to explain and Dean blanches as his brother’s forward mentioning of Alastair’s execution.

Samuel’s eyes narrow dangerously and Dean gulps. “Tell me,” His eyes bore into Dean and Sam falls silent, realizing the danger of the situation.

“In accordance with our home laws, I set an early edict forbidding any of our party to rape or otherwise abuse any prisoners we may take,” Dean begins, swallowing thickly. “Alastair saw fit to disobey my ruling and was caught in the act of violating one of the monks,” He continues, pausing to take a breath. “The decision to punish him for his disobedience was supported by both Sam and Benjamin, as well as the other members of the raiding party.”

Samuel remains silent for a moment, studying his son’s carefully. “And this monk who was assaulted. Where is he now?”

“With the other monks, sir,” Sam answers. “Benjamin is tending to them.”

“Bring him here,” Samuel demands as he waves a commanding hand at Sam.

“Yes sir,” Sam quips and turns on his heel, leaving Dean alone with their father.

Dean swallows hard but holds his chin high.

“I take it you carried out the sentence?” Samuel arches a brow.

“Yes, sir. I saw value in making a clear example.” Dean answers plainly.

Samuel hums and nods with a frown. “You do realize this will hinder our relationship with my brother. He already seeks to unseat me, and therefore you. Do you think our family will not face consequences?”

Dean sucks in a breath and straightens his spine, determined to face his father’s judgment bravely. “I would have done the same to any member of my raid who so blatantly disobeyed my orders. I felt affording an exception to a cousin would only tarnish my command.”

Samuel nods, “Very well. I accept your judgment as true and we shall face the fallout as a family,” He finally says, eyes softening around the edges.

Dean lets out a deep breath and sends a quick thanks to the gods for his father’s grace. “Thank you, sir.”

“Ah, so this is the monk who was assaulted?” Samuel says before Dean can think of anything else to say, Sam is pushing Castiel through the door and Dean has to fight to keep his feet from taking him to the man.

“This is Castiel,” Sam introduces as he nudges the terrified looking man forward. He has Cas come to a stop at Dean’s side, only a few paces in front of Samuel. “Kneel,” Sam whispers into Castiel’s ear and Cas jumps, looking to Sam with a startled expression but the stern look in Sam’s eye has him complying wordlessly.

Castiel sinks to his knees and Dean feels a surge of jealousy toward Sam for how readily Cas obeys him. Dean has had to fight for every concession he’s gotten out of the monk and he grows weary of the battle.

“Castiel,” Samuel says the monk's name with marked distaste. He glances at Sam, a silent request to translate that makes Dean feel even more inadequate. “Tell me, Castiel, is it true that you were assaulted after being taken captive?” He arches a brow as he speaks, staring deep into Castiel’s eyes before turning his gaze to Sam.

Sam speaks to Cas and the man’s blue eyes widen before his cheeks flush red with obvious shame. Castiel drops his gaze as Sam continues to speak and Dean can’t help but wonder what Sam is saying.

Cas swallows hard and whispers to Sam while Dean strains to hear. Sam smiles at whatever Cas is saying and turns to whisper something into Cas’ ear in response.

Cas swallows hard and nods. “Yes, sir. Dean…Dean stopped Alastair as he was…” Cas pauses to swallow down his obvious pain and clench his eyes tightly closed, “As he was raping me,” Cas finishes. The unfamiliar Norse words cause his voice to crack as he curls in on himself. Sam must have coached him in what to say.

Sam leans forward once again and whispers into Cas’ ear.

“Dean saved me,” Cas mutters, his voice becoming almost too quiet to hear but Dean can still recognize the pain in the man’s admission and he wants for nothing more than to crouch down and offer comfort.

“Sir, I fear this monk may face retribution from Azazel and Asmodeus for my actions.” Dean takes a half step forward to place himself between his father and Cas.

“I agree with Dean, sir. I feel that it would be best for all involved for Dean to take custody of this man,” Sam says, knowing full well his effect on their father.

Samuel frowns and nods before turning a critical eye to Dean. “Do you agree with your brother’s opinion? Are you willing to take this monk for your own?” Samuel asks with an arched brow and careless wave to Castiel.

Dean forces himself to take a measured breath to disguise the pounding of his heart. “I do, sir. If it would please you, I will claim this man as my earnings from the raid.”

“Very well,” Samuel dismisses. “Do with him as you will and bring the rest of the treasures to our hold,” Samuel waves his hand in an easy dismissal of the three men and Dean wastes no time in grasping Castiel’s elbow and hauling him to his feet.

“Good, Cas,” Dean leans close to say quietly. His stomach somersaults with pleasure at knowing that Castiel is officially his but he knows all too well how difficult the road ahead of them will be.

Cas stumbles along beside Dean silently. His cheeks are flushed red and his jaw is held tightly clenched as Sam follows behind them.

“What now, Dean?” Sam asks and Dean can hear the genuine concern in Sam’s tone.

“What will you do with Gabriel?” Dean questions, genuinely curious.

“He will be staying in my quarters,” Sam says with a frown. “I intend to keep him safe and comfortable until I can free him.”

Dean nods. “Do you think Cas would want to stay with me?” Dean wonders aloud.

Sam huffs and shakes his head. “Cas, would you rather sleep in Dean’s quarters or with the thralls and animals?”

Cas gives Sam a narrowed eyed glare and clenches his jaw before risking a glance to Dean.

“I asked him what he wants,” Sam tells Dean by way of explanation.

“Animals,” Castiel finally answers and Sam nods as if that were the answer he was expecting.

Sam tightens his jaw and gives Cas a nod before turning back to Dean. “He chooses the barn.”

The barn. Cas would rather sleep in the filth with the animals than endure Dean’s presence.

Fine.

Dean’s jaw clenches and he can feel the muscles twitching under his skin. “Very well. Ask him what his duties were at the abbey. Did he cook? Farm? What?” Dean demands and Sam rolls his eyes before turning to Castiel to ask.

Cas frowns and ponders Dean’s questions. He’s caught between the brothers with nowhere to flee. “I tended our vegetable garden with Inias and Samandrial and we all shared in cooking duties,” Castiel finally answers and Sam nods sagely.

“Farming and they all cook,” Sam tells Dean.

Dean nods and scrubs a hand over his scruffy jaw. His beard has gotten longer than he prefers during the long voyage and he needs to trim it. “Will you get him settled then?” Dean asks his brother just as his stomach growls.

Despite dispatching Alastair, they still did not carry enough food to provide for another mouth. Dean had readily agreed to share his rations and the past week of not eating enough has taken a toll on his stamina and temperament. Not that he’ll admit to as much, but Castiel’s refusals cut him deeply and Dean is ashamed of his reaction when Cas threw the fish away.

He needs a moment to himself, away from Castiel’s judgmental gaze.

“Yeah, sure,” Sam grumbles with an obvious frown as he reaches for Castiel. “Come with me, Cas,” Sam says with a much softer tone as he gestures for Dean to release his hold.

Dean pretends the flash of relief in Castiel’s eyes doesn’t sting as Sam leads him away.

Dean has his own business to attend to. Samuel will be holding a village-wide feast to welcome the raiding party home and Dean will need to oversee the unloading of the boats and organizing of the rest of the monks. Nine of them will need to be incorporated into the workings of the village or sold to neighboring villages and much of that will fall to Dean’s judgment.

He may be just returned, but his duties are never at an end.

He shoulders open the door to his room for the first time in over a month to find everything just as he left it. Not that anyone would trouble his things, but he is still pleased to see his space untouched. He steps to his bed with a smile playing at his lips and falls back onto the broad cushion.

“Still perfect,” He mutters to no one. He has always taken great care to keep his bed properly fluffed and stuffed with fresh straw regularly. He probably has the most comfortable space to sleep in the entire village and he has missed it dearly.

All too soon, he forces himself from his place of comfort and strips off his worn and filthy clothes. He wrinkles his nose in disgust at the sight of them and he casts them aside to be collected by the house slaves later.

He needs to wash.

He entertains the thought of having Cas tend to him as he dresses in clean clothing but he dismisses the thought with a huff. “He made his decision,” Dean grumbles under his breath. If Cas’ hatred is ever to dim, Dean must give the man some space no matter much he would rather selfishly keep him close.

For now, he needs a token of ownership for Cas to wear for protection and he thinks he has just the thing buried at the bottom of his great chest.

Once he’s dressed, he straightens his spine and leaves his room, prepared to face whatever may come.

“Dean!” A haughty voice calls to him before Dean can even make it back to the main hall of his father’s longhouse.

“Uncle,” Dean dips his chin in deference to the man angrily striding toward him even as dread causes a chasm to open in his stomach. His hand tightens on the sword hanging from his belt instinctively despite his uncle being unarmed.

“You dare call me that?” Asmodeus spits, his tone dripping with venom.

Dean sighs and narrowly resists shaking his head. He doesn’t need to respond. Asmodeus will continue whether or not Dean acknowledges his remark.

“Would you care to explain to me why only one of my sons has returned.” Asmodeus doesn’t ask. He demands. His luminous hazel eyes glint with the fury only a father can feel at the loss of his eldest son and Dean nearly sympathizes.

Nearly.

“He knowingly broke the laws that we all abide and that I laid out very clearly at the beginning of our journey. The laws each man and woman swore to follow under the penalty of death,” Dean says as he continues walking. If this confrontation takes a turn for the worst, Dean would prefer to be in plain sight of their village.

“Bullshit,” Asmodeus bites as he grabs for Dean’s arm. “Azazel told me that the monk was not one of the prisoners. That you made up the story of having already claimed him for your own selfish gain. You wanted my son dead from the very beginning.”

“Those accusations are as bold as they are false. My brother and my second in command both stood witness to my claim on the monk. Alastair intentionally sought to harm what was mine. I merely exercised the power given to me by your Jarl,” Dean bites, brooking no further argument.

“You have not heard the end of this!” Asmodeus hisses as Dean sweeps around the corner and several of the other village members come into view as Dean pushes through the door. Asmodeus won’t dare try anything in public and they both know it.

“My actions were just. You would do well to accept that you cannot win this argument,” Dean says with a glare befitting a leader. He refuses to be bullied by the man who wishes to usurp Samuel’s rule. Asmodeus was passed over by their father for good reason.

“This is not over, boy,” Asmodeus hisses before turning on his heel and stalking away as Dean continues his mission of finding his new slave.

Dean finds Cas in deep discussion with two of his brethren. He tries in vain to smother his surge of jealousy by reminding himself that those are the people Cas knows, the people he trusts, but his jaw clenches and his gaze hardens regardless of what logic tells him he should feel.

“Cas!” Dean barks as he draws near and Cas startles and his expression falls as he takes in Dean’s approach.

Dean tries not to let the obvious rejection burn into frustration and he scans the open space in the center of the village for his brother. “Sam!” Dean calls when he spots the man’s form towering above one of the young women who has had her eye on Sam for years.

Ruby smiles warmly at Sam when he dips his chin in farewell, but her smile falls into a darkened glare as soon as Sam turns his back.

Dean’s skin crawls at the way Ruby watches his brother like he’s nothing more than a piece of meat. The tight feeling in his gut says the raven-haired woman is up to no good but Sam refuses to listen to reason.

“Dean,” Sam says by way of greeting as he falls into step next to Dean.

“I need your help explaining to Cas about wearing my mark, and then we’ll need to bring all of them before Father,” Dean continues as his stomach twists and churns with dread.

“If we can talk to them beforehand, find out their skills, that might make placing them that much easier.” Sam doesn’t admit that Samuel will likely want to sell a good portion of them as soon as possible.

At least while they’re in this village, Sam can protect them to some degree and Dean is grateful for his brother’s optimism.

Dean nods his agreement as they quickly close the distance to Castiel. “Cas,” Dean says again, he purposefully makes his tone quieter than before but he still finds himself on the receiving end of a venomous glare from one of Cas’ brothers. “Move,” Dean snaps at the man who has foolishly placed himself between Dean and what belongs to him.

“Inias, please,” Cas mutters as he nudges his friend aside. “Don’t make this worse.”

Dean ignores the fact that he doesn’t understand Cas’ words. The other monk is still glaring and Dean will not have it.

Before he can stop himself, Dean fists the fabric of the monk’s robe tightly and draws him close with a menacing glare.

“Dean, no. Please,” Cas begs, gripping Dean’s arm tightly as he attempts to force Dean to release his friend. “Please, Dean,” Cas beseeches, blue eyes wide and pleading.

Dean softens almost as soon as those bottomless blue eyes meet his own and he releases the other monk with a shove that nearly sends him toppling onto the dusty ground.

Cas doesn’t release Dean’s arm as he tries to turn Dean’s attention from the still glaring monk and onto himself. “Dean,” Cas whispers, begging.

Dean sucks in a breath through his nose but doesn’t try to pry Cas’ fingers from his arm as he lets Cas pull him away.

Dean huffs as he pulls the armband from his pocket with one hand as he reaches for Cas’ wrist with the other. Cas goes still and his posture stiffens when Dean’s fingers circle his wrist. “Cas,” Dean says, purposely keeping his tone soft to try to convey that Dean isn’t going to hurt him.

“Dean, why did you do that?” Sam demands as he stomps over to where Cas had led Dean. “There was no reason to lay a hand on that man.”

“He was trying to keep me from Cas,” Dean bites and Cas’ eyes narrow at the sound of his name.

Sam huffs irritably and shakes his head. “So what? You’re just going to attack everyone who dares give a shit about Castiel?” Sam bites angrily and he crosses his arms over his chest to better glare at his brother.

Cas looks between the two men, obviously confused but he makes no move to pull his wrist away from Dean.

“That is exactly what I intend,” Dean growls as he holds up the armband. “Sam, tell him that wearing this marks him as _mine_ and so much as looking at him wrong while wearing my mark is unforgivable.”

“Dean, you can’t be serious.” Sam shakes his head in feigned disbelief.

“I’m not kidding, Sam. No one is to touch him.”

Sam lets out a heavy breath and glances at Castiel. The monk’s eyes have gone wide and his complexion pale as he stands as still as he can manage. Dean’s grip on Cas’ wrist can’t possibly be comfortable. “Even his brothers? The only people he has who he trusts?”

Dean lets out a sigh and shakes his head. “Fine,” He says, conceding Sam’s point. “But if anyone tries to _harm_ him, I will kill them.”

Sam frowns but nods his acceptance and turns to Cas. “Cas, Dean wants you to wear this around your wrist. You must keep it on.”

“Why?” Cas questions even as Dean bends the metal around his wrist.

Sam sighs, already knowing how his next words are going to sound to Castiel’s ears. “The band marks you as his,” Sam starts, the words have barely left his mouth when Cas pulls his wrist from Dean’s grasp with a snarl.

“NO!” Cas bites, backing away from Dean quickly.

Irritation spikes immediately in Dean’s chest and he lets out a low growl as he follows Castiel’s steps. He will not allow Cas to keep behaving like this.

“Cas, stop,” Sam holds up his hands in a placating gesture. “Being marked will mean you’re protected. No one will be permitted to touch you without Dean’s permission. And he isn’t going to give permission. It’s protection, Cas. To keep you safe,” Sam explains as Dean stalks toward Cas angrily.

Cas’ eyes are wide, bouncing between the brothers as he processes Sam’s words. Dean grabs his wrist roughly and Cas flinches with the touch. “Protection?” He mutters, swallowing hard.

Sam nods. “Yes. Everyone will know that you are under Dean’s protection. He... WE... won’t let anyone hurt you.”

“What’s to stop them?” Cas asks with his wide eyes fixated on Dean’s fingers.

Sam sighs and shakes his head. “That band was Dean’s childhood armband. I know you don’t understand the significance, but that,” Sam points to the band in Dean’s grasp, “means that Dean will kill anyone who tries to hurt you.”

Cas’ eyes slide closed as he visibly gathers himself before giving a shaky nod. “Very well.” A single tear tracks down his cheek as Dean finishes attaching his old armband as a bracelet around Cas’ wrist.

“Good, Cas,” Dean says quietly as he reaches to brush that salty bead of moisture from Castiel’s face. Cas pinches a frown and his blue eyes are glassy when he forces them open before turning away from Dean sharply.

“What now?” Castiel questions Sam, holding his chin high as he fights back tears.

Sam pinches a frown and Dean looks on curiously, wishing yet again that he had taken the time to learn the language of Wessex. The more he listens to Castiel speak, the more the syllables come forward in his mind. Memories he’s been shoving down since he was a young boy.

Then, the only way to survive was to forget. Sam was too young and his memories too hazy to be a threat to Samuel’s rule. But Dean... he stops that line of thought with a fierce scowl. He doesn’t need to remember his introduction to Viking life.

Cas will adjust or he will die. There can be nothing in between and Dean plans on doing his best to ensure the monk’s acceptance of his new life.

“Now we bring all of you before our father. Jarl Samuel. Gabriel is already mine, and you are Dean’s. The rest of your brothers will either be gifted to the village, held in the Jarl’s service or... sold,” Sam explains, only faltering on the last word.

“Sam?” Dean interjects, noticing the look of devastated fury blooming across Cas’ features.

Cas gasps and covers his mouth his hands, shaking his head as he backs away from Sam.

“Cas,” Dean says as he places a hand on Cas’ shoulder to prevent the man from backing into him. Cas jerks away with a wide-eyed look of horror.

“Sold?!” Cas squeaks, shaking his head. “No. No no no, please, Sam,” Cas pleads, voice growing small and rising into a pitch not befitting his normal low rumble. “Dean, please, no,” Cas turns to Dean next, eyes glistening with new tears. “Please, I’ll do anything you want. Just don’t sell them,” Cas bows his head and falls to his knees in front of Dean with tears streaming steadily down his cheeks.

“Sam?” Dean looks sideways at his brother. Cas is submitting himself, finally, but Dean knows he’s missing something important.

“He’s begging us not to sell the other monks,” Sam explains.

“We might not have a choice.” Dean shakes his head sadly. “Their fate is no longer our decision.” Dean lowers himself to a crouch and gathers Castiel’s clasped hands in his own, thumb rubbing lightly over the iron band now adorning the man’s wrist. “Cas,” Dean says softly.

Cas lifts his watery blue eyes to meet Dean’s. “Please,” Cas croaks as Dean stares deep into blue eyes.

Dean sucks in a breath and nods. “Ok,” He whispers, praying to Odin that he can keep his promise. “I promise.”

Cas lets out a relieved sob and drops his gaze. “Thank you, thank you,” He repeats like a mantra without pulling away from Dean’s hold on his hands.

Dean’s heart squeezes at the monk’s emotion and he looks up to Sam in hopes that his brother will have his back. “Sam, father listens to you. Will you help me convince him to keep them all?” Dean asks with an arched brow.

Sam nods. “Yeah, sure.”

Dean doesn’t miss the look of doubt in Sam’s gaze or the flash of amusement that causes the corners of his lips to twitch upward.

He pushes to his feet but Cas remains on his knees, staring down at the ground instead of following Dean’s gaze. “Cas, come,” Dean mutters, holding a hand down to help the monk up.

Cas glances up and Dean can see the way his ocean blue eyes glance between Dean and his brother. He chews his lower lip and Dean forces himself to wait patiently for Cas to come to a decision.

Dean’s breath catches in his lungs when Cas reaches a hesitant hand to take Dean’s and Dean does his best to remind himself that this means nothing. Cas probably hates him more than ever.

Dean still smiles when Castiel’s fingers close around his and Dean carefully helps him to his feet. He doesn’t miss the slight wince Castiel gives as he straightens. “Cas hurt?” Dean questions softly, letting his genuine concern bleed into his tone but Cas only firms his jaw and shakes his head.

“No,” Cas says, tone firm but lacking the spiteful bite Dean has become accustomed to.

“Good.” Dean knows Cas is lying but he isn’t going to force the issue. “Cas, friend?” Dean says. He wants to ask who his meddlesome friend is so Dean can attempt to find a cushioned placement for the man. If he cares for Cas enough to try to protect him, then he must be a decent man.

Cas squints and cocks his head, making it obvious that he doesn’t understand.

“Dean would like to know who your friend is,” Sam offers helpfully and Dean can’t help the scowl that he gives his brother.

“Inias,” Castiel answers quickly to Dean before looking to Sam. “Please, he was only trying to protect me,” Cas continues with a frantic tone. “He means no harm.”

Dean gives Cas a puzzled glance at his torrent of words and looks to Sam for an explanation.

“He’s afraid you’re going to hurt his friend,” Sam relays and Dean barks a disbelieving laugh as he shakes his head.

He claps Cas on the shoulder and turns the monk enough to meet his eyes. “Tell him that I will not harm any of his brothers so long as they behave themselves. I only ask because learning more about them will help me place them within our community.” His words are for Sam despite holding Cas’ gaze.

Staring into those eyes is nearly as torturous as staring into the sun. Castiel is so bright, so beautiful, Dean is forced to look away.

Sam translates for Dean and Cas’ gaze softens immediately. For a brief second, he nearly looks relieved before his features harden back into his mask of hatred.

“Good,” Cas says plainly so that Dean can understand.

Dean is certain the monk would have some choice words for him if they spoke the same language, but somehow Cas manages to make his feelings known easily enough.

Dean lets out a sigh and leads Cas to the cluster of Monks. “Inias!” Dean barks and the man’s attention snaps to him, expression immediately darkening when his gaze lands on the way Dean’s hand still rests on Cas’ shoulder.

Dean flexes his fingers and tightens his grip with a vindictive little quirk of his lips. “Inias, come,” Dean says, softer this time though still loud enough for everyone to hear.

Cas lets out a breath and shakes his head. “Dean,” He hisses, somewhere between a warning and a plea.

“Come here, Inias,” Sam says in the Monk’s language and understanding dawns on his features as he confidently strides toward the trio. “What are your skills?” Sam asks when he comes to a stop in front of Castiel.

Inias glances between Cas and Dean, searching Cas for signs of distress. His eyes narrow when he takes in the iron band around Castiel’s wrist and Cas shifts uncomfortably under Dean’s hand.

“Answer,” Dean snaps, adding a hard edge to his tone.

Inias and Cas both startle and Cas shrugs out of Dean’s grip to stare at the man, using his body to shield Inias in a reversal of their earlier stance.

Dean arches a brow at Castiel and Cas quickly drops his gaze. Dean preens at his monk’s compliance but refuses to soften his stance.

“Inias, tell Sam what he wants to know,” Cas instructs as he reaches a hand back to lace his fingers with Inias’.

Dean’s eyes narrow at the sight of Cas reaching for Inias and he barely restrains himself from dragging Cas away. He decides right then that Inias will be kept far away from Castiel.

Inias looks to Sam with a frown. “I help Castiel in the gardens and I can cook. I also visit the orphans of our city and ensure they are ministered to,” Inias explains softly, his tone smooth and easy despite the fierce light in his eyes.

Sam nods as he listens before turning to Dean and translating.

“Children?” Dean asks with a quirked brow. He immediately dismisses tasks that would keep the man close to Cas. He’s already decided Cas will work in his family’s private garden and cook their meals with other slaves.

Sam nods. “What about the others? Is anyone skilled as a carpenter or craftsman?” Sam arches a brow to both monks and Cas nods emphatically.

“Balthazar and Gadreel both trained with skilled carpenters. They did repairs around the Abbey when needed. Ephraim is a skilled healer,” Cas explains quickly while Inias gives him a sideways glare. “They need to know so they don’t have to sell anyone.”

Inias gasps and releases Cas’ hand in favor of covering his mouth and staring wide-eyed at Sam before turning to glare at Dean. “Sell us?” Inias gulps, turning back to Sam.

“We’re going to try to keep that from happening, but we need to make each of you too valuable to our father to sell. Do you understand?” Sam asks the two monks with an arched brow.

Inias sucks in a shocked breath and turns to throw his arms around Castiel. “I can’t lose you, brother,” Inias chokes out, eyes already watering.

“Calm yourself,” Castiel instructs. “Sam has so far been a man of his word, I believe we can trust him to do his best.”

“And Dean?” Inias questions, glancing over Castiel’s shoulder to meet Dean’s burning glare.

“Dean is…” Cas says lowly as he leans close enough for his lips to brush Inias’ ear as he whispers too lowly for Dean to hear.

Dean calls upon the entirely of his self-restraint to not rip his Cas from Inias’ arms. A low growl escapes his throat and Cas tenses at the sound. Dean feels a swell of satisfaction at the way Cas hurriedly pushes himself away from Inias and takes a half step toward Dean.

Inias swallows hard and turns back to Sam. “Ezekiel, Virgil, and Gabriel all came to us from families of soldiers. They were trained in combat from infancy before choosing to devote their lives to God.”

Sam’s eyes widen but he covers his surprise well as he translates for Dean.

Dean nods reluctantly and scrubs a hand over his cheek as his mind wanders to the conversation to come. “Cas, stay.” He gives the command and looks to Sam when Cas’ brows knit together in confusion but he wanders away before he can hear Sam’s explanation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I hope you enjoy and I would love to hear from you.


	7. Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isolated from his brothers, two weeks have passed since their arrival in the Viking village. Castiel has been set to work preparing the garden for planting with several other slaves. The work is hard but not unfamiliar. Unfortunately, the same cannot be said for his interactions with Dean.

Cas looks up from his work and blinks the sweat out of his eyes. The ground underneath his pick is dry and unyielding and his palms sting from broken blisters that leave trails of moisture on the smooth wood of the handle. The work here is hard and people even harder, but this pain is something he knows how to deal with.

He wipes his brow and studies his surroundings. Several other slaves toil in the dirt with him but they offer nothing in the way of conversation. Dean is nowhere in sight and Cas’ shoulders slump as he returns to his work. He knows it is only a matter of time before Dean comes to collect him, as he does every day, but it seems the time hasn’t come yet and he has more digging to do before they can begin planting seeds.

Castiel doesn’t understand why the man insists on dragging him to some corner of the village every day simply so they can stare at each other until Dean inevitably walks away.

Sometimes Dean offers him food, fresh bread that Cas readily takes and they eat in silence. Sometimes, they merely share a skin of water and watch the sun begin to set.

Dean never asks anything of him other than his company and Cas hates that he’s begun to look forward to these quiet interactions.

Dean is a never-ending source of frustration.

He stops again and swallows thickly as he tries to ignore the hunger gnawing at his stomach. He hopes Dean brings food today. The thin gruel and dried fish rationed to the slaves is barely enough to sate his hunger each morning and it is not enough to last the day.

“Back to work!” Lilith says to him. He doesn’t understand her words and he gives her a narrow-eyed look of consternation before turning his back to the woman. “Stupid Christian,” she sneers and Cas’ shoulders tense all over again.

Those are words he knows.

His grip tightens painfully on his pick and his cheeks heat as he glares at the back of her blonde head. “Father, what have I done to deserve this punishment?” He says too quietly for anyone else to hear but he can’t manage to keep the bitter note out of his tone. His gaze tilts toward the sky as despair rises in his chest. “What have any of us done?”

The last few weeks have been a trial of will and patience.

Shortly after arriving in Laugar, the monks were pried apart and Cas frequently sees his brothers in the distance but has found few opportunities to speak with them. He’s certain Dean has seen to that and he uses that belief as a reason to hold tight to his hatred.

Only Gadreel remains within his reach and the man is as solemn as the funeral prayers they would chant when their brothers were called home to God.

Cas scowls as he slams his pick down into the hard earth once again.

Gadreel seems content with this servitude and that complacency makes Cas so _angry_.

He takes out his anger on the earth below him in the same way he holds the rage close to his heart, refusing to let go. His anger is against Gadreel, against Alastair, against Dean and Sam and Gabriel and everyone else in this God-forsaken place. The anger that burns the hottest is the anger he feels toward God.

How could he allow these barbarians to enslave his loyal shepherds?

Cas clenches his jaw painfully as he digs and his thoughts circle around how unjustly he’s been wronged.

He digs until his palms bleed and his body trembles.

“Castiel,” A familiar voice says from beyond the fence and Castiel drops his pick immediately.

“Inias,” He mutters, eyes wide as he stumbles closer to his friend and brother. He opens his arms wide and Inias readily falls into them, his arms circling to clap Cas on the back before pulling away.

“Brother, are you well?” Inias says as he clasps Cas’ forearm the same as Cas has done with him.

Cas takes a shuddering breath and forces himself to nod. The injuries he suffers now are of his own doing.

“I am as well as I can be. And you?” Cas answers and turns the question on Inias. The shy smile he receives in return is enough of an answer.

“The children are fascinating and are slowly coming to accept that Samandriel and I only wish to care for them,” Inias says softly and Cas can almost see the smile in his voice.

Inias has always loved working with the innocent the best.

Inias sucks in a sharp breath as a cloud crosses over his features. “The culture here is far different from our own. They seem to value death as a reward instead of something to be avoided. It is, unsettling at times,” Inias continues and Cas finds himself nodding in return.

Cas wipes his bloodied hands on his robes and catches sight of Sam out of the corner of his eye. He has his head tilted close to a raven-haired woman that Castiel has come to know as Ruby.

Cas has also come to know that Dean does not like Sam being around Ruby and that seems to be the one area where Sam will not agree with his older brother.

Cas lets out a sigh and shakes his head. Sam with Ruby will only mean that Dean will be angry when he comes today.

“I must admit to struggling, Inias. I do not know how much more I can take,” Cas says quietly with downcast eyes. Admitting his weakness only fills him with shame, but Inias is his closest friend. If he cannot confide in his friend, then he has no one.

He is convinced that God stopped listening to him when he failed in his duty to report seeing Dean in the forest before the raid that destroyed everything he’s ever known.

Inias lays a comforting hand on Cas’ shoulder and his gentle gaze bores deep into Castiel’s soul. “You will find a way, Castiel. Trust in God, my brother. All will be as _he_ wills it.”

Cas closes his eyes and tries to hold back a pained sob. Inias is so firm in his faith, so unwavering. Castiel can’t possibly tell him that he feels they have been forsaken. No. He will keep his pain to himself.

“I must go, it seems that Dean wishes to murder me with his glare,” Inias says with an amused quirk of his lips.

“Stay clear of him, ‘Nias,” Cas grasps Inias’ sleeve and meets his eyes with a pleading look. His stomach does somersaults as he considers the agony a man like Dean would inflict upon a gentle soul such as Inias.

No, leave the Viking heathen to Castiel.

“Has he harmed you, brother?” Inias asks, his tone hushed and hurried as his concerned gaze studies Castiel.

Cas ducks his chin and shakes his head. “He seems reluctant to see harm brought to me, though I do not understand why.”

Inias nods. “That is good to hear. Take care, Castiel,” He says quickly just as Cas notices Dean scowling and arguing with Sam. Ruby has disappeared and Cas finds himself sympathizing with the woman.

“And you as well. Give the others my regards?” Castiel asks, brows knitted together as he watches Dean point to his longhouse and Sam shakes his head angrily. Dean turns toward the small field that Castiel and the other slaves are preparing for planting and his eyes narrow further when his green gaze lands on Castiel and Inias. “You must go, brother,” Cas says in a rush as he dips his chin to indicate the man now storming toward them.

“Take care,” Inias says with a nod before hurrying off to avoid Dean’s wrath.

“Cas,” Dean barks when he’s close enough for Cas to see the green hue of his eyes.

Cas jumps and quickly recovers the pick he had been using to break up the hard earth. He takes a halfhearted swing at the dirt, but his mind is no longer in the task. His skin prickles with the heat of Dean’s gaze and he closes his eyes as he waits for the inevitable.

Cas’ throat works hard to swallow as he senses Dean’s approach and he loosens his grip on the pick just as Dean wrenches the tool from his hands. “Cas,” Dean says, his tone hard and demanding.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas says defiantly, lifting his chin to meet the other man’s gaze with a glare of his own.

Dean throws the pick down violently and grasps Cas’ arm hard enough to make him gasp. “Why you talk to _him?_” Dean demands in broken English as he points toward Inias’ retreating back.

“He is my brother,” Cas demands right back. “My friend,” Cas says, and he feels a smug sense of satisfaction at the faint trace of hurt that flickers across Dean’s gaze. “I will talk to him every chance I have.”

Cas doesn’t care if Dean doesn’t understand all of his words. He understands enough.

Dean glances down to where his fingers are tightly embedded in the sleeve of Castiel’s robe and his gaze hardens further. “What happened?” Dean demands as he shakes Cas’ arm and glares at his hand.

Cas narrows his eyes in confusion and tries to pull away, but Dean’s iron grip holds him tight.

Dean uses his free hand to turn Cas’ wrist and raise his bloodied hand with a fierce scowl. “Cas bleed!”

Cas scowls and tugs his hand away. “I was working,” Cas says grumpily. Irritated that his man seems to care at all.

Dean drops Cas’ arm with a huff and shakes his head. “Cas, come,” He bites before he turns away and starts to walk toward the longhouse.

Cas stares after him for a moment too long.

Dean turns and clenches his jaw. “Cas, come. NOW,” Dean says, his words a clear order that has Cas’ feet moving slowly despite his internal protest.

Cas ambles toward Dean warily and he can see the man’s features tighten in impatience. His heart flutters in his chest, wondering what Dean wants with him now.

He glances around as he slowly walks, noting several pairs of eyes on him including Gadreel and Ezekiel.

Ezekiel is standing close, too close in Cas’ opinion, to a young Norse woman who is also watching the scene unfold between him and Dean. His brother had been given the duty to protect the Jarl’s household. An honor Sam had said, one given to few slaves, but Ezekiel had nearly bested the Jarl’s warriors when he was tested, and Benny agreed to take the mild-mannered man under his wing.

Gadreel takes a step toward Cas, but Cas stops him with a raised hand and a curt shake of his head.

Try as he might to hate Dean, Cas has come to believe that the man’s word is true. He won’t harm him.

Gadreel watches with narrowed eyes as Dean grips Cas’ upper arm tightly to haul him away when he deems Cas is taking too long. Cas sends one more glance over his shoulder to his brother as Dean pulls him along, trying to convince Gadreel to let it be and not to worry.

“Cas, come,” Dean says flatly as his grip tightens fractionally.

Cas doesn’t bother fighting and he lets himself be pulled in the direction of the longhouse that Dean shares with his family.

Dean leads them inside without another word and Cas is careful to strike a balance between submissive and willful as Dean pulls him through the long hall toward an area Cas has yet to see.

They garner several more sideways glances as they travel down the wide hallway, but no one bothers to question what the Jarl’s son wants with his property.

Cas is certain that no one really cares, they only watch on the chance there might be violence to be witnessed and applauded.

Eventually, Dean shoves Cas through a broad wooden door that rivals even those in Castiel’s monastery.

“Cas, sit,” Dean says, pointing to the large table in the room.

Cas ignores the demand, instead, he chooses to glance around the room. He notices a large bed off to one side and a fireplace in a sunken area just past the foot of the bed. The table takes up most of the area nearest the door and a large chest sits against the back wall furthest from where he stands.

“Sit,” Dean says again, louder this time as he points.

Cas turns to him with narrowed eyes and glares even as he slowly complies. He pulls a chair out and seats himself at the table Dean was pointing at without breaking his stare with the Norseman.

Dean huffs and shakes his head as he breezes by Cas with a simple order for Cas to _stay_. Cas watches as Dean fetches a large yet shallow bowl and fills it with water from the large basin next to the fireplace.

Dean carefully walks back with the bowl balanced in his grip and Cas tilts his head in question as the man approaches.

Cas swallows hard as Dean sets the bowl on the table and settles into a chair next to Castiel.

“Cas,” Dean says as he holds out an expectant hand. “Hurt,” Dean says again when Cas only gives him a confused stare.

Cas tentatively offers his hand to Dean and feels a flutter in his stomach when the man graces him with a soft smile.

“Good, Cas,” Dean says, his tone lacking the usual bite. “I promised no one would hurt you. No one, Cas. Not even you,” Dean says as he dips Cas’ bloodied hand in the bowl of water and gently rubs the filth from his skin. “I don’t want to see you hurt.”

Cas narrows his eyes and frowns. He doesn’t understand all of Dean’s words but his tone isn’t scolding. Dean almost sounds disappointed.

The water in the bowl is tinted brown by the time Dean lifts Cas’ hand to inspect his work. The green of the man’s eyes nearly glistens in the low light of the room and Cas takes a moment to study Dean’s features. The fine smattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks seem to have darkened as the weather warms and his lips form a perfect bow that has Cas swallowing hard.

Dean’s softness at this moment is something Cas has only seen when the two of them are alone and something uncomfortable squirms in Cas’ stomach at the thought.

A sudden stab of pain has Cas pulling his hand back with a hiss and his wide eyes meet Dean’s with a startled accusation. “Ow!” Cas says loudly when Dean reaches for his hand once again.

Dean huffs and ignores Castiel’s protest. “Cas,” He says warningly as he holds out his hand. His tone contains a lilt that has Cas tilting his head curiously. The way the corners of Dean’s mouth twitch upward has Cas shaking his head as he tries to summon his anger and fails.

“Don’t laugh at me,” Cas says, knowing Dean won’t understand his words. The furrow of a frown that dents Dean’s brow has Cas letting out the faintest huff of laughter as he holds his hand out for Dean to take.

Castiel doesn’t know what to make of this, but he allows Dean to fuss over his hands in silence while his gut squirms with unwelcome thoughts.

Dean rises from the table to fetch clean water and he issues a soft command for Cas to stay. When he returns, he has a small container held in his grasp along with the bowl.

Cas takes a deep breath when Dean settles back at the table. “This is your room?” Cas asks with the slim hope that maybe Dean might understand. A pinched frown and furrowed brow from Dean inform him that he doesn’t. Cas chews on his lip as he thinks. “Yours?” He tries again in Norse, this time while gesturing to the space around them.

Dean cracks a smile and nods. “Yes. Mine.”

“Salve?” Cas asks as he nods toward the small container. It looks nearly identical to the medicinal paste the brothers had given him in the beginning.

A dark cloud passes over Cas’ features at the memory and a sharp pain lances through his chest. He still aches at times, but the pain remaining goes far deeper than physical wounds. He shrinks in on himself as his mood plummets and his gaze drops involuntarily before he clenches his eyes against the flood of sudden fear threatening to consume him.

“Cas,” Dean says quietly, nudging Cas’ chin to try to get him to look.

Cas shakes his head and clenches his eyes tighter as his breaths begin to feel choked.

“Cas,” Dean says, his voice cracking around the single syllable. “Cas safe,” Dean says, tone pleading as he reaches out to gently touch Cas’ shoulders.

“No.” Cas pulls back with a choked sob. He isn’t safe. He isn’t okay. Nothing is preventing Dean from turning into another Alastair. Nothing can stop Dean from hurting him whenever he wants to. This sense of security Cas has begun to feel is only going to get him hurt.

Strong arms wrap around his shoulders and he finds himself drawn tightly against Dean’s chest as panic threatens to overtake him. Cas tries to push back, tries to beat against the arms circling him like iron bands, but Dean doesn’t budge.

“Shhh, Cas ok. Promise. I won’t hurt you,” Dean says softly, barely more than a whisper in Castiel’s ear as he takes shuddering breaths.

Cas shakes his head. He doesn’t believe Dean. He can’t allow himself to believe.

Minutes pass, but Dean holds him tight until Cas’ breathing slows to normal and he stops struggling against Dean’s hold. “Better?” Dean asks and Cas shakes his head, not understanding.

Cas sucks in a ragged breath and clenches his eyes as he swallows down his emotions and reaches inside himself for what little remains of his self-composure.

“Salve?” Cas asks again, taking a deep but shuddering breath as he nods toward the jar on the table. He needs to control himself. He can’t keep letting Dean see just how broken he is.

He refuses to let himself take comfort in Dean’s embrace through the worse of his lingering panic.

Cas forces his chin high despite his frantically beating heart and the tempest brewing in his stomach. Dean is his enemy. He cannot afford to forget.

Dean nods and repeats the word with a gentle nod. His steady gaze makes Castiel shift uncomfortably and he turns his head to stare at the fireplace.

“You’re amazing, Cas,” Dean says, and Cas ignores him. The words are unfamiliar to his ears and he thinks he might go insane if he tries too closely to understand. “Beautiful, strong, brave.”

Cas lifts his gaze at the final word. The one he recognizes. Cas shakes his head. “Not brave,” Cas says. He isn’t. He’s a coward. He’s too afraid to act. Too afraid to find his freedom.

Cas is not brave.

Dean gives him a soft smile and shakes his head in disagreement. “Very brave,” Dean says as he reaches for the jar of ointment. Cas looks past Dean, to the wall behind him as he holds out his hands. “No more fieldwork until your hands heal. Be more careful.”

Cas ignores Dean’s words. He doesn’t understand them anyway. He simply allows Dean to dab the salve on his torn and raw skin before wrapping soft strips of clean cloth around his hands to protect them.

“Better,” Dean says softly as he reaches out to nudge Cas’ chin.

Cas meets Dean’s gaze with a shuddering breath, not missing the way Dean’s eyes drop to his lips briefly. Cas wants to pull away, but he finds himself frozen under the weight of Dean’s stare.

His heart races for reasons he cannot place and eventually he forces himself to look away.

Dean flinches a smile. “Come,” He says as he pushes to his feet and holds out his hand for Cas to take.

Cas tilts his chin high and stands. He refuses to take Dean’s hand. He can’t allow himself to let Dean think his hatred is fading as quickly as it is.

Dean drops his hand when he realizes that whatever moment they shared has been spent and he shakes his head sadly before tightening his jaw and turning toward the door.

Cas hadn’t realized how much time had passed in Dean’s room until they step outside in the warm evening air. The sky overhead has begun to darken and vivid pinks and yellows streak across the blue sky, painting the world in peaceful shades that Cas had once marveled at.

His jaw clenches and he hardens his resolve. He cannot stay here. He cannot allow himself to grow complacent in his captivity like his brothers seem to have. He will be free, or he will perish trying.

Dean leads Cas to Sam, who in turn translates that Cas is being reassigned to kitchen duty until his hands heal. Dean gives him one last reproachful look before stalking away into the night, leaving Cas to find his own way back.

Sam reaches out a staying hand to rest on Castiel’s shoulder and his expression is soft and open. “Be more careful, Castiel. Dean will punish any who bring you harm. Even if that someone is yourself.”

Cas huffs and shakes his head at that. “What more can he do to me,” he says, not asking. Dean has taken everything from him. His home, his brothers. He has nothing left to lose.

Sam smiles sadly. “Please. Take better care of yourself,” he says before turning away and heading toward the house Cas has learned belongs to Ruby and her family.

Cas stands alone for a moment and swallows hard as his heart hammers wildly in his chest.

Dean is gone, Sam is gone. No one remains within sight who might care where he goes.

He was ordered to the kitchens.

His heart hammers harder as his feet begin to carry him toward the edge of the settlement. The forest lies beyond and surely there is freedom to be found beyond that.

If Cas is quiet, confident, perhaps he can continue past the barn attached to the house where he’s been forced to sleep with the animals. Perhaps no one will notice his absence until he has gone far enough to hide.

His shoulders tense and his eyes frantically scan for anyone who might be watching him. He forces himself to take slow and steady steps as he listens intently for anyone following him.

At the edge of the hard-packed earth that marks the boundary of the village, he pries the iron band on his wrist open enough to tug Dean’s mark from his body. When he takes his first step into the long grasses at the edge of the village, he considers flinging the band as far as he can but his stomach twists at the thought and his heart refuses to force his hand.

Cas scowls and tucks the piece of metal into the pocket of his robe as he curses himself for his weakness.

The tall grass gives way to trees and Cas lets out the breath he had been holding when he becomes shrouded in shadow.

He lets out a slight huff of laughter and breathes deeply. He’s away.

They just let him walk away.

He keeps his feet moving steadily in the direction he thinks is south. Home is south, that is all he knows. Eventually, he might be lucky enough to find his way back.

Or he will perish in the wilderness, but at least he will be free.

No more glares from Dean, no more barked orders in a language he doesn’t understand. No more living under constant threat of harm.

Cas lets himself smile as the thick forest causes the village to disappear and he keeps walking.

He thinks that maybe he’s far enough away to start running, but he doesn’t want to draw attention to himself. He keeps his steps as close to silent as he can manage and ducks around each tree for shelter. His deep brown robe can only help him blend in.

A few scant minutes pass before a twig snaps behind him and Cas’ heart lodges in his throat. The forest falls deathly silent around him as he quickens his steps.

“Castiel!” An angry voice shouts and Cas breaks into a run with a squeak of terror.

Leaves and twigs crunch under the feet of his pursuer as Cas darts amongst the trees.

His sandals are not made for running and tears begin to seep from his eyes as the man behind him closes the distance. Cas can feel his presence drawing closer and Cas uses all of his willpower not to fall to his knees and give up.

He pumps his legs harder, fighting to keep his balance as he skids across the damp leaves littering the forest floor.

“Dammit, Castiel. Dean is going to be pissed. Don’t do this,” Benny says as he continues to gain on Castiel. His tone is far too calm, far too steady when compared to Cas’ heaving breaths.

Benny. Cas knows the voice belonging to Dean’s best friend. Cas almost feels a pang of guilt as he continues to run. Benny has been kind to him and now Cas is repaying that kindness by fleeing.

A solid weight slams into Cas’ back and the force knocks him to the ground and pushes the breath from his lungs. Cas turns with a growl as he instinctively flails and tries to shove Benny off. Blind panic grips him as his mind is flooded with memories of the last time someone held him from behind. “NO!” he screams as he struggles to escape the larger man’s grip.

“Cas. Castiel! Stop it!” Benny demands as Cas thrashes.

“Let me go!” Cas cries out. He strikes Benny as hard as he can when he manages to get a hand free but the hit doesn’t faze the man.

He collects Cas’ wrists in an iron grip and pins Castiel to the forest floor. “Stop!” Benny demands as he flips Cas and presses a knee into Cas’ lower back.

Cas freezes like a deer in the face of a predator. Blind terror courses through him as Benny pulls his wrists together and pins them behind his back. He’s pinned under Benny’s weight and entirely at the other man’s mercy. Cas’ heart threatens to hammer out of his chest and tears burn in his eyes as he continues to mount an ineffective struggle. “Please, don’t,” Cas cries, his tone a pleading whimper.

“Dammit Cas, why’d you run?” Benny breathes a little heavier as he holds Cas still to wait him out.

Cas grunts and struggles as pleas fall from his lips, but Benny doesn’t acknowledge his words. Eventually, Cas is reduced to heaving breaths as tears fall freely from his eyes.

His lower back screams with the sharp pain from where Benny’s knee has him pinned and his shoulders ache from having his arms wrenched backward, but Benny seems to have infinite patience as he silently waits for him to calm. Finally, after what feels like hours, the fight bleeds out of Cas and he goes lax in Benny’s hold.

“Gotta take you back,” He says, and Cas can hear the regret tinging his tone. “You gonna be good?” Benny asks.

Cas can hear the question in his tone, but he doesn’t understand the words beyond ‘good’. Cas nods, nonetheless, assuming Benny is telling him to behave himself.

The weight holding him down disappears and Benny wrenches Cas to his feet and spins him around to face him. Benny’s pale blue eyes bore into Castiel’s for a moment and Cas has no idea what the man is looking for, but he must find it because he gives a curt nod and spins them back toward the village.

They walk in silence, Cas’ hands still pinned behind his back, but he doesn’t bother to struggle. He would be no match for a warrior like Benny.

Cas heart is heavy as they trek through the forest, but the walk isn’t as long as Cas thought it would be. His escape attempt was futile.

The sky has barely reached full darkness when Benny pushes Cas from the edge of the forest and marches him to the room where Dean had so tenderly cared for his hands earlier.

Cas sucks in a sharp breath and clenches his jaw when Benny knocks.

No matter how his knees quake and his stomach threatens to revolt, he will meet Dean’s fury with as much bravery as he can muster.

\---

*Dean*

Dean paces with his jaw clenched so tightly that his teeth creak under the pressure. Cas tried to run away. His heart hammers and his pulse pounds in his ears as he glares at the man.

Benny is long gone, quick to flee Dean’s anger but trusting him to handle Cas’ disobedience.

Viking law says Cas should pay for his crime with blood, but Dean _promised._

“Cas.” Dean bites loudly and huffs in disgust as he raises his hand as if to strike and Cas flinches and presses his back against the wall.

The monk’s blue eyes are wide and glassy as he wrings his hands and shifts under Dean’s harsh glare. “Dean, please,” Cas mutters, his breath hitching when Dean steps into his space.

Dean shakes his head and snorts with derision as he grips the loose fabric near Cas’ throat and pins Cas to the wall with a shove. Let him beg.

Cas’ hands come up to grip Dean’s wrists, trying to push him away but Dean refuses to be moved. He glances down when Cas’ fingers dig into the tender underside of his wrist and notices the section of bare skin where Cas’ sleeve rides up.

A growl rips from Dean’s throat as he releases Cas’ robes and takes his bare wrist in a bruising grip. Cas whimpers and tries to shrink back against Dean’s efforts to drag him forward.

“Where is my band?” Dean demands as he drags Cas away from the wall and closer to the roaring fire.

Cas doesn’t answer but he allows Dean to force him into a chair and push the wide sleeve of his robe up to his elbow where Dean can see that the simple iron band is nowhere in sight.

“Where!” Dean barks, his heart racing.

Cas flinches and pulls his wrist away with a hard swallow but he firms his jaw defiantly and glares as Dean closes his eyes and tries to regain his calm.

“You have no idea how lucky you are that Benny is the one who stopped you.” Dean finally grumbles as he turns to stare into the flames dancing in his fireplace.

Cas remains silent and Dean bristles with the knowledge that he wouldn’t understand anything Cas would say. Speaking would be pointless.

Dean yelling is pointless.

Cas is terrified but he still faces Dean’s anger with stoic bravery.

Dean huffs and shakes his head, hating himself just a little bit more for everything he’s done to lead them here.

He thought that Cas was beginning to accept his situation.

Dean has tried talking to him. He’s given time to relax and tried to make him feel safe.

And this is how Cas rewards his efforts. 

Dean shudders to think what might have happened if anyone other than Benny saw Cas slip into the trees.

“Dean?” Cas finally whispers and Dean’s attention immediately snaps to the man.

His hands rest on his hips as he stares but Cas is too busy staring at the floor to notice his tense posture.

“I,” he starts, “I’m sorry. I was scared, I wasn’t thinking,” Cas stammers but Dean doesn’t understand his words and Cas growls in frustration. “You confound me, Dean of Winchester.” Cas finally looks up and Dean’s heart stutters when he notices a single tear rolls down Cas’ dirty cheek.

His fingers twitch with the desire to wipe the stray moisture away and Dean chastises himself for the wayward thought as he clings to his anger. His cheeks heat and nose flares as he sucks in a sharp breath and frowns.

“Please forgive me,” Cas says, his voice cracking as he slides to his knees at Dean’s feet.

Dean staggers back, not understanding Cas’ words but seeing him on his knees groveling hurts like a knife to the stomach. “Cas, up,” Dean says hurriedly as he shakes his head.

Cas doesn’t move, he only hangs his head pitifully and Dean can see the faint tremor wracking his body.

“Up.” Dean steps forward and grasps Cas’ elbow to haul him to his feet. “No, Cas.”

Cas blinks the tears from his eyes and clenches his jaw as he shakes his head. “Dean,” He starts to say but then clamps his mouth shut as he watches Dean begin to pace with a wary expression.

“I need to think. I need to punish you, but I can’t… Cas, I can’t.” Dean shakes his head and tugs at his hair as his thoughts race. “No one can know that you tried to run away.”

Dean stops and stares at the door. He has an idea, but he needs to speak with Sam. He snaps his fingers and gestures to Cas with his hand. “Come.”

Cas flinches and scowls but he slowly obeys when Dean hardens his gaze dangerously.

The door slams behind them and the torches lighting the hall flicker as the sudden gust of air disrupts them. Cas flinches at the sudden sound and takes a step backward when Dean growls low in his throat and gestures for him to come forward.

Dean shakes his head, not having the patience for Cas’ continued reticence. Not after the crime he has committed. “Cas.” Dean glares, forcing any warmth from his tone.

Cas sucks in a breath and his slide closed for a moment before he gives a jerky nod and steps forward with his chin held high.

If Dean weren’t furious, he would consider praising Cas for his bravery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy premier day!!!! As always, I would love to hear from you, just not about tonight's episode. I won't be able to watch it until Friday... no spoilers!


	8. The Feast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel makes a mistake that he pays dearly for, but Dean's response only confuses him further.

Castiel clasps the heavy wooden tray tightly and swallows hard as he follows the line of slaves out of the kitchen. The great hall of the longhouse has been lined with tables and filled with guests from neighboring villages that Castiel refuses to learn the names of.

He refuses to internalize the role he must play tonight.

Today is an important feast day for his captors and Sam had explained that Castiel’s punishment for trying to escape will be to serve during the banquet and afterward.

He must face the lords of the land and bow to them as a slave. He must submit himself to their demands. He serves God. Not these men.

Castiel’s heart had nearly stalled in his chest as Sam explained his punishment while Dean held his arm in a bruising grip.

Sam had been the one to soften and make promises when Castiel’s breath came in ragged gasps and he nearly doubled over with panic. Sam’s promises meant nothing in the face of Dean’s anger.

Dean has been cold and unyielding since his pathetic escape attempt and Castiel doubts Dean intends to keep his promise from before.

Castiel knowingly broke his trust.

Dean would be within his rights to rescind his protections.

Dean had been furious that the iron band around Cas’ wrist was gone and he refused to replace it. His words, translated by Sam, where that Cas must live with the consequences of his decision.

Castiel was too weak to reveal the iron band tucked in his pocket. He was too weak throw the claiming mark away and he is even weaker still for refusing to wear it once again.

He takes a deep breath and straightens his shoulders in determination. He will do what he must to survive this ordeal with his dignity intact.

His position is to stand directly behind Dean and Samuel’s chairs. Dean sits on his father’s right and Sam is on Dean’s right.

For all the Norse lords pay attention to them, the slaves may as well be invisible as they approach the table with their heavily laden trays. The aroma of the fresh-roasted meats and loaves of bread causes Castiel’s stomach to clench with need.

The signal is given for them to place their trays upon the broad wooden table, worn smooth with age, and Castiel steps forward, careful to keep pace with the others. His foot bumps the back of Dean’s chair and Cas flushes with nerves that barely quiet when Dean fails to react.

His hands tremble as he reaches carefully between Dean and Samuel to set his burden down. Dean had requested Castiel be the one to serve him and his father, Cas being his great prize that the green-eyed man desires to show off and Jarl Samuel had relented.

So here Cas is, trying to remain invisible in this hall of men and women who have been brought here to ogle the Jarl’s riches, himself included.

Castiel straightens to take a step back but he misjudges the space. Time seems to stall and Castiel’s heart stops in his chest as his hand clumsily upsets the cup of mead set in front of Samuel. The cup rocks and tips before finally giving up the struggle to remain upright and tips with a clatter as the cool liquid spills across the table where it runs over the edges and into the Jarl’s lap.

Castiel stands frozen with wide eyes as silence falls around him.

The sound of a chair scraping the floor and Dean’s voice apologizing to his father sounds distant to Cas’ ears and the rough hands pushing Castiel back barely register. Cas is blind to it all, his gaze fixated on the mess he made.

The Jarl moves suddenly and grips Castiel by the throat and shoves him backward. Cas is jolted from his stupor and frantically claws at the man’s hand as he struggles to breathe through the crushing pressure. His back slams into the wall but Samuel keeps pushing, determined to choke the air from Castiel’s lungs and steal his voice in the process.

The Jarl’s look is murderous, disproportionately angry for an offense Castiel would have once considered minor. But here, from his position in thrall, spilling a simple drink could be deadly. Samuel mutters and growls words that Castiel doesn’t understand but his tone is harsh and cruel enough for the color to drain from Dean’s face.

“Sir, please,” Dean stands at his father’s side. “He is mine to punish,” Dean scowls, his glare nearly rivals his adoptive father’s but Castiel can easily see the difference, even in his panicked state. Samuel wants to murder him.

Dean will yell.

Castiel would much prefer Dean’s methods. He turns his wide and terrified gaze to Dean in a silent plea for mercy as his lungs burn and tears gather involuntarily in the corners of his eyes. “Please,” Cas manages to choke out. He stops struggling, forcing his limbs to still and his hands to fall at his sides. If Samuel is determined to crush his throat, Castiel will meet his fate with dignity.

His lack of struggle seems to draw the Jarl out of his rage and he releases his grip on Castiel’s throat only to draw his hand back and deliver a slap that rings out loudly through the now quiet hall and sends Castiel to his knees.

Cas tries to breathe through the pain in his throat and the burning sting across his cheek but a swift kick to his ribs has him forgetting those minor discomforts as he lands sprawling across the floor. Cas grunts in pain but refuses to cry out as another kick comes. He curls in on himself, determined to protect his face and stomach. He’s aware of Dean’s biting tongue directed at his father but he doesn’t dare look.

The kicks continue to come and Castiel grunts with each one, his face now soaked with tears. He clenches his eyes shut tightly and prays to God for deliverance from this torture. He cannot survive like this.

These savage beasts that parade about as men, these pagan idolaters will be the death of him, Castiel is sure. “O good shepherd, seek me out, and bring me home to thy fold again. Deal favorably with me according to thy good pleasure, till I may dwell in thy house all the days of my life...” He mutters a prayer he learned long ago, his voice pleading for this torment to end.

Castiel barely realizes when the beating stops, he only notices when Dean's green eyes materialize in front of his face. They stare at him with startling clarity and a rough hand tilts Castiel’s chin back. Cas fights to tuck his chin down but Dean is persistent.

“Up. Cas, up” Dean urges as he grips Castiel’s elbow and pulls. Cas goes clumsily and clenches his eyes, he doesn’t have the will to disobey this simple command but his limbs barely respond to his attempt to obey. His entire body screams in protest and Dean holds him tight in his refusal to allow Cas to sink back to the floor.

Castiel doesn’t bother opening his eyes to face his shame or Samuel’s murderous glare. He lets Dean guide him out of the hall. The Viking seems intent on keeping Castiel on his feet, so Cas doesn’t try to argue. Dean murmurs words as soft and gentle as Cas had ever heard and he nearly finds himself giving into the comfort of Dean’s tone.

After a moment, when they’re away from prying eyes in the empty corridor of the longhouse, the level of care in Dean’s voice has Castiel’s tears renewing and the urge to fight to return.

Dean doesn’t get to bring this misery upon him and then comfort the hurt! Castiel tries to jerk away in anger but Dean refuses to release him. Dean is guiding him to the barn, surely to dump him like an animal and then go back to his feast.

“Cas,” Dean says. He still refuses to release Castiel’s arm even as the monk tries to pull away.

Castiel struggles against Dean’s hold, nearly growling with the effort that only gets him pressed against Dean’s firm chest and held tighter.

“Cas, stop. No, please,” Dean says, using all the words that Castiel knows to try to get him to stop struggling but Cas doesn’t listen. Finally, Dean growls as he manhandles Cas through the door of the barn and pushes him down into the straw with Dean following him down and holding him down by his wrists. “Cas,” Dean bites, his tone firm enough to finally draw Castiel’s compliance. “Stop!”

Cas clenches his jaw and glares up at Dean. The man is hovering over him. His knees bracket Castiel’s hips and his hands hold tight around Castiel’s wrists. Cas’ heart hammers in panic at their position and Dean’s proximity but his anger outweighs his fear.

“Dammit, Cas,” Dean says, dropping his forehead to press against Castiel’s.

Cas freezes and his mind races at the unexpected intimate touch. He wasn’t sure what he expected Dean to do, but it certainly was not this. Dean’s skin is warm against his and Dean’s weight on top of him suddenly feels less oppressive, much to his disdain. Cas blinks open his eyes to see Dean’s closed, from this close, the Norse warrior almost looks soft and as young as his twenty-odd years should make him.

It takes a fair amount of Castiel’s willpower not to draw his head back and smack his brow against Dean’s as violently as he can. The overwhelming urge to hurt Dean is only overshadowed by his growing curiosity.

Perhaps more remains of Dean of Winchester than Castiel had previously thought. The young boy with vivid green eyes and a smile to rival the sun might still exist somewhere inside of this hardened man.

“Are you injured?” Dean mutters, drawing back just enough to rake his gaze over Castiel’s body before frowning in frustration.

His brown robes cover nearly all of his skin and for that, Castiel is grateful. The bruises that are surely forming will remain hidden from view. Dean’s hands roam his chest, probing, and Castiel squirms away while aiming a deadly glare toward Dean.

“Hold still,” Dean orders and Cas squints, his mind churning rapidly to remember the meaning behind Dean’s words. “Cas, I can’t help you if you won’t let me,” Dean huffs, the annoyance is clear in his tone as he sits back with a frown.

Cas forces himself to look at Dean and study the man’s features. He might not understand most of Dean’s words, but the man’s expression is far more open. Dean chews his lip as he watches Castiel study him and Cas sees what he thinks is genuine concern.

“I’m sorry he hurt you,” Dean mutters and Castiel cocks his head, uncertain of Dean’s meaning.

Dean sighs and shakes his head sadly as he reaches out to ghost his fingertips along Castiel’s jaw.

Cas’ breath hitches as he holds himself still and allows the touch, although he frowns at the contact.

Dean is still straddling Cas’ hips and he waits for the inevitable fear to rise and force him to renew his struggles, but the fear never comes. Instead, a warm feeling of resignation sweeps through him and leaves Cas too exhausted to keep fighting.

Cas closes his eyes and takes a deep breath that makes his ribs protest and Dean’s eyes narrow as Cas lets out an involuntary gasp. Cas notices his Dean’s fingers twitch as he watches Castiel’s pained expression.

Cas swallows hard, making his decision.

Dean lets out a small gasp when he feels the light touch of Castiel’s palms coming to rest just above his knees. Dean’s surprised expression but otherwise lack of reaction emboldens Castiel enough to give Dean a jerky nod. “Help?” Castiel mutters, almost certain he’s chosen the right word.

Dean’s smile lights up brighter than the sun and he shuffles off of Castiel to encourage him to sit up. “Yes,” Dean says firmly with a pleased smile as he reaches out to touch. “Where do you hurt?” Dean asks but Cas can only cock his head in confusion.

Dean sighs and shakes his head before looking skyward as if pleading with God for patience. His hand reaches for a spot where one of Samuel’s kicks had landed and Cas flinches at the pain. “Where,” Dean says, pressing again to make Castiel flinch. “Hurt.”

Cas sucks in a breath when he understands what Dean is trying to imply. “Where,” Cas says in comprehension and Dean smiles at him like Cas has hung the moon. Cas can’t help the pleased flutter in his stomach to be on the receiving end of Dean’s smile, so he tugs up the sleeve of his robe to reveal a darkening bruise. He points to it and feels emboldened when a dark look crosses Dean’s features. “Hurt,” Cas says.

“I hate seeing you hurt,” Dean mutters as he carefully lays his hand over the bruise with a sad expression. Cas understands little of Dean’s words, but his expression says enough.

Castiel feels his anger slipping and despair taking root once more and tears begin to glisten in his eyes. He’s so tired of fighting, of clinging to his anger in the face of Dean showing that there is more to him than the monster who stole Castiel from his home.

A stray tear rolls down his cheek and Dean wipes it away tenderly with his thumb as he cradles Castiel’s jaw in his calloused palm.

This would be so much easier if Dean weren’t kind.

Cas pulls away from Dean’s touch, refusing to let Dean get under his skin any further. “No.” Castiel forces himself to pull away despite craving the tender touch. His life has become one trial after another, his body constantly aches, and bruises litter the skin he can’t bring himself to look at.

Dean looks hurt by Castiel’s reticence before nodding his acceptance and pushing to his feet. “Stay, Cas,” Dean says softly. The oft-spoken words sound like a plea rather than a command and Castiel can’t bring himself to fight. “I’ll be back with food.”

Castiel nods. He can barely meet Dean’s eyes as he chews his lower lip nervously. He will gladly stay here with the animals if his other option is to go back to the banquet.

Castiel’s stomach swoops when Dean returns a short time later with a small bowl of torn bread and smoked meat that he holds out to Cas with a faint flush to his cheeks. Cas takes the food with muttered thanks as Dean settles beside him in the straw as he begins to eat.

Once Cas is done eating, Dean uses the damp cloth he brought to wipe away the grime from Cas’ face and hands. Dean barely utters a word as Cas allows him to work and he refuses to meet Castiel’s questioning gaze.

By the time Dean leaves, Castiel’s stomach is twisted in confused knots as he replays their interaction in his mind, searching for whatever key piece of information he must have missed.

Hours pass as the other slaves slowly return from their duties and the barn eventually grows silent as everyone beds down to sleep. Only the faint rustling of the animals can be heard, and Cas is lulled into a sleepless trance as the hours pass.

The dull thunk of wood on wood is followed by a light creak from the door as a shadowed figure slinks through the opening with a lantern. Cas props himself up and peers through the darkness toward the source of a faint sound that disturbs the peaceful quiet.

Castiel’s eyes widen and his heart begins to pound when he recognizes the intruder as Azazel.

Cas has seen little of the man or his father since they departed the village to bring word of the feast to their neighbors only days after the raiding party’s arrival, but Sam and Dean’s warnings to be careful still ring fresh in his mind.

He pushes himself back against the wall that the barn shares with the longhouse and shimmies underneath the straw as silently as he can, doing his best to disappear from the man’s searching eyes.

Whispered words reach his ears but they remain distant. His heart hammers so loudly he can hear his heartbeat in his ears and he covers his mouth and nose with a hand to stave off the dust from the itchy straw.

“Lilith, my sweet,” Azazel’s hushed tone comes from across the barn.

“Mmmm, my lord,” Another voice says in response and Cas bites down on his clenched fist to keep himself from whimpering. He’s going to throw up, he’s certain of it. His stomach riots and twists, demanding he run far and fast from the two people whispering in the darkness.

Lilith has gone out of her way to torment him and if any of the other thralls would give him away, it would be her. He does not doubt that Azazel would not pass on this opportunity to seek vengeance for his brother.

The two of them are dangerous.

Castiel’s breath catches as he listens intently, but the only sounds he can hear are the grunts and moans of carnal pleasure that serve to twist his stomach further. He cringes and yet his mind churns as he takes in this information. He knows, Dean told him, that Azazel’s family plots against him and Samuel. If Dean is to be believed, Azazel is not to be trusted and Cas knows he cannot trust Lilith.

He sucks in a sharp breath when he realizes that Dean will surely want to know about this. Cas wishes the force driving this realization was purely selfish, but he can feel the tightening coil of dread low in his stomach when he considers what Azazel’s scheming might mean for Dean and Sam, no matter how much he may loathe admitting his growing level of care.

Cas lays tense under the straw long after Azazel leaves. When dawn crests and floods the barn with light that prompts the other slaves to rise to go about their duties, Cas still cannot convince his body to move from his hiding spot.

His heart and mind war with one another over his next steps, that is if he can ever force himself to emerge from his hidden cocoon.

Cas loses track of how much time passes. His stomach twists and protests in hunger and his back is surely permanently twisted from holding this curled position for so long. And yet, he still doesn’t move.

He hears another enter the barn and he tenses as footsteps approach. Cas holds his breath and tightens his arms across his knees as he waits.

“Cas?” A voice calls to him, deep and rough with a hardened edge. Dean is upset.

Cas shivers in lingering fear and doesn’t risk taking a breath. He should have gotten up. He should be braver. Why Dean continues to protect him is beyond Castiel’s understanding.

“Cas?!” Dean calls again, louder this time with a slight edge of panic in his tone. “Castiel!” Dean calls, voicing Cas’ full name for the first time that Castiel has heard.

Cas’ resolve to stay hidden falters under the worry laced within Dean’s tone. After last night, Cas can’t bring himself to encourage Dean to become angry with him.

Cas feels a sharp pang of self-loathing when he realizes that he is considering Dean’s feelings, but that isn’t enough to stop him from slowly shuffling out from underneath the hay.

He squints against the bright light and quietly takes in the sight of Dean standing with his back to him. The man’s shoulders are tense and Cas can see the way Dean’s chest heaves where he stands, oblivious to Castiel’s appearance. “Dammit Cas,” Dean breathes as he shakes his head and he scrubs a weary hand over his face.

“Dean,” Cas says meekly, voice rough from disuse. Dean spins so quickly that he nearly trips, and Cas can’t help the amused smile that creeps over his features.

“Cas,” Dean breathes, relief clear in his tone as he takes a long stride to drag Castiel into his arms. “I thought you ran,” Dean mutters as he holds Castiel close.

Cas gasps at the sudden force of Dean’s hug and his bruised ribs protest but he doesn’t try to pull away.

“No,” Cas whispers, wanting to explain. “Azazel came, I…I was scared,” Cas says, words slow and awkward as he does his best not to struggle against Dean’s hold.

“Azazel? Did he hurt you?” Dean squeezes him tighter and Cas wheezes at the increased pressure.

“No,” Cas manages to choke out and Dean finally realizes that he’s holding on too tightly.

“Sorry.” Dean releases him and steps back with a sheepish expression as he moves his hands to Castiel’s shoulders as he ducks his chin just enough to meet Castiel’s gaze.

“He and Lilith…” Cas starts but trails off when he doesn’t know the right words to explain their copulation.

“Did he hurt her?” Dean questions, tone already becoming defensive.

Cas shakes his head. “No, they…” Cas trails off again with a frustrated whine. He waves his hand, gesturing that he doesn’t know the right words. “Talk to Sam, me,” Cas finally says, knowing his words aren’t quite right but his frustration is clouding his mind.

Dean understands well enough and nods. “Ok,” He says, not even bothering to tell Cas to come, he simply slides his hand down Castiel’s arm and laces their fingers together.

Cas shivers at the intimate touch but he allows Dean to hold his hand. He tells himself that gentle hand-holding is preferable to being pushed and shoved and the flicker of warmth in his chest means nothing at all.

Dean leads Cas through the wide space of the longhouse to Sam’s private chamber and doesn’t bother knocking before barreling through his brother’s door with Castiel in tow.

“Dean, what?!” Sam squawks, quickly pushing to his feet from the broad table he and Gabriel sit at.

“Cas,” Dean says, pushing Castiel forward. Their fingers become untangled and Cas immediately folds his hands in front of him to keep Dean from reclaiming them.

Cas swallows hard and relays what he heard to Sam. Sam’s expression darkens as he listens and Gabriel arches a curious brow.

Finally, Sam looks at Dean and translates. There is no mistaking the anger blossoming across Dean’s features and Cas struggles not to shrink away from the impending storm.

“Thank you, Cas,” Dean says stiffly as he claps Castiel’s shoulder roughly.

Cas winces but meets Dean’s eyes regardless. Dean pats his shoulder softly and gestures to Gabriel. “Sit, please,” Dean gives and nod and Cas swallows roughly before moving to obey.

Dean follows and settles into a chair next to Castiel. Gabriel sits on Castiel’s other side and Sam sits across.

“This is serious. If Azazel is plotting with some of the thralls, then Lilith might not be the only one looking to betray us,” Dean says and Cas understands maybe half of his words.

Sam is quick to translate and Cas sucks in a strained breath. “You and Gabriel might be the only ones in this house that we can trust,” Sam says, meeting Castiel’s eyes.

Cas nods. Yes. They can trust him, although Cas is puzzled as to how they came to trust him. Surely it must be that they know how broad a target Castiel wears. They are Cas’ only line of defense. If something were to happen to Dean and his brother, Castiel has no doubt the other Vikings would be far less kind to him.

Castiel loses track of time as Dean and Sam discuss plans. For now, they opt to leave their father in the dark. At least until they can gather proof beyond the word of a single slave. Dean’s hand holds Castiel’s knee under the table and Cas eventually loses the struggle to not rest his hand atop Dean’s.

Somehow the gesture feels natural and Dean is quick to lace their fingers together. Castiel’s heart stutters just a little in his chest when the other man squeezes his hand slightly and flashes Cas a soft smile.

Sam arches a brow at the two of them and Cas looks at the surface of the table to avoid meeting Gabriel’s disappointed expression. He can feel his cheeks heating with embarrassment but he doesn’t make a move to take his hand back.

Hour pass and Cas shifts uncomfortably in his chair, earning him a questioning look from Dean. Never in his life has he been idle for this long and his tailbone aches from the cushion-less wooden seat and his body nearly vibrates with the need to move.

“Cas?” Dean tilts his head and regards him carefully, leaving Sam to watch them with an arched brow.

Cas flushes and stares at the tabletop. “Sorry.” He folds his hands in his lap, resolving to do better. His new goal is to keep Dean pleased with him. The tenderness Dean had shown the night before is fresh in his mind and he would prefer to earn more of that than the man’s anger.

Never mind the tiny swoop in his stomach or the way his heart flutters when Dean smiles at him.

“Gabriel?” Sam calls attention to the other monk in the room.

“Huh?” Gabe huffs and gives Sam a tired glare.

Sam quirks a smile. “Would you mind going for a walk with Cas while we finish up here?”

Dean tilts his head as he listens to his brother speak words that he doesn’t understand and Cas watches Dean rather than his brother. He fights back a smile of his own as Dean narrows his eyes and tilts his head further.

Gabriel huffs and shakes his head. “You wanna go for a walk, Cassie?”

Castiel whips his head around to face his brother at the sound of his name and flushes. “Sorry, what did you say?” Cas frowns and ducks his chin with embarrassment.

Gabriel chuckles and arches a brow. “A walk. Want to get out of here for a bit?”

Cas bites his lip and glances at Dean. “Uh, yes. Please.”

“Awesome. Let’s go.” Gabriel stands and gestures for Cas to follow.

Cas glances at Dean before nodding to Sam. “Thank you, Sam,” he says as he pushes from his chair.

Sam nods and quickly tells Dean where they’re going. Dean’s hand darts out to latch on to Castiel’s wrist and he freezes, staring down at Dean as his heart begins to quicken.

Dean smiles and nods. “Be careful,” he says as he releases Castiel’s wrist.

Cas sucks in a sharp breath and nods. “Yes, Dean.” He mutters before turning away to join Gabriel.

As soon as the door closes behind them, Gabriel begins to laugh and he claps Castiel on the back with a broad smile. “You’ve got him wrapped around your finger, Cassie.”

Cas frowns and tilts his head. “I do not understand, brother.”

Gabriel shakes his head with disbelief. “Dean. He wants you.” Gabe waggles his brows and Cas’ stomach plummets.

Cas shakes his head. “That is impossible.”

“Oh please, you act all demure and he’s practically drooling.” Gabe rolls his eyes and gestures toward the outer door.

Castiel shakes his head vehemently. “Dean only wants my obedience. He doesn’t care for me and I certainly do not care for him.”

Gabriel grunts and scrubs his hand over his face. “You are so obtuse, Castiel,” he mutters as Cas stares with narrowed eyes. “Be careful with him. If you truly hold no feelings for the man, I do not wish for him to gain the wrong idea and molest you.”

Cas sucks in a sharp breath and furrows his brow. “Dean would not.” At least, Castiel doesn’t think that Dean would. He has come to consider Dean to be a man of his word.

Castiel’s ears twitch at the sounds of pained screams in the distance and he turns to his brother with wide eyes. “Gabriel?”

“Come on, Cassie,” Gabriel snips and takes off running toward the commotion.

Dust clouds around them but Cas follows his brother dutifully toward the center of the village. The screams continue and Castiel catches a glimpse of Benny wielding a stout club and a man lying bloodied at his feet.

The Viking’s expression is grim and Castiel’s blood runs cold as he pushes through the crowd.

“More.” A balding man with his arms folded across his chest demands as the man quivers on the ground.

Benny gives the man a sideways glance and his expression falters before he raises the club once more.

Castiel covers his mouth in horror as the club falls with a sickening crack and the beaten man falls silent. His blood soaks into the dirt and his struggles cease as Benny arches a brow toward the balding man.

“That enough?” Benny says, his voice heavy in a way that Castiel hasn’t heard before.

The man nods. “Tie him up. Make sure an example has been made.” He points toward a pole standing up from the earth and strides away with a disgusted huff.

Cas’ heart races and his stomach threatens to empty as Benny meets his gaze through the crowd. The Norseman gives Cas a faint nod and gestures toward the beaten man with his chin. Cas narrows his eyes and shakes his head. “Gabriel?” Cas questions as Balthazar comes up behind him.

“Good to see you, Cassie.” Balthazar rests a heavy hand on Castiel’s shoulder and Cas spins to take in his brother’s somber expression.

“What is going on here?” Cas questions, swallowing hard.

Balthazar shrugs, his normally jovial expression has been turned haunted and he shakes his head. “He’s one of the slaves brought by a guest of the Jarl. He tried to run away last night.”

Cas’ heart nearly stops and he shakes his head. “But that isn’t right, why would they…” His thoughts flutter to Dean and the anger in his voice when Cas had tried to run away. Dean had said that Castiel was lucky that Benny found him. “Dean didn’t...”

Balthazar shrugs. “To make an example to the rest of us.” Baltazar interrupts with a bitter huff.

“Do not speak of that, brother,” Gabriel whispers in Castiel’s ear and Cas turns to him with wide eyes.

“Idiot is lucky they didn’t kill him,” Balthazar says derisively.

“The Norsemen are cruel.” Ephraim comes to stand between Gabriel and Balthazar and he meets Castiel’s gaze sadly. “I have been told I will not be permitted to tend to his wounds.” Ephraim scowls as he regards the bloodied man currently being tied to the tall pole.

“I am sorry, brother,” Gabriel says, resting a consoling hand on Ephraim’s shoulder. Ephraim is a skilled healer and is content only when he is working. To not be allowed to help someone goes against his moral fiber.

“Castiel.” Benny’s gruff voice comes from behind the small circle of monks and the four of them turn to face the man.

Cas swallows hard as he stares at the blood marring Benny’s linen shirt and he takes a step back, bumping into Balthazar.

“Stay away from him.” Gabriel bites as he steps in front of Castiel.

“Hey now, I wish him no harm.” Benny holds his hands out in front of him in a placating gesture.

Gabriel snarls and shields Cas from view. “After what you just did?”

“If Benny wished to harm me, he has already had the opportunity to do so,” Castiel says as he nudges Gabriel aside despite the hammering of his heart and the fear coursing through his veins so thickly that his hands tremble. He holds his chin high and meets Benny’s gaze as bravely as he dares.

“Do you understand now?” Benny asks and Cas narrows his eyes as he pieces together the words.

His stomach aches and threatens to empty, but he nods. “Yes.” He forces himself to say while quaking where he stands. If not for Dean’s favor, Castiel shudders to think what his actions would have wrought. “Thank you,” Cas says woodenly as he dips his chin in deference.

Balthazar steps forward with a hearty glare aimed at Benny. “What is he talking about, Cassie? Do you understand what?”

Gabriel swats Balthazar’s shoulder and hisses a demand for silence.

Balthazar narrows his eyes. “What are you two not telling me?” He folds his arms over his chest and glares at Gabriel, Castiel, and Benny in turn.

“It would be better if you do not know, brother,” Castiel says with a frown.

“Cas! Gabriel!” Dean's voice can be heard over the still gathered crowd and the man soon joins their circle.

“Well, I need to tend to Andrea.” Benny excuses and gives Dean a shrug before hurrying away.

“Cas?” Dean gives him a cautious look that does little to settle Castiel’s nerves.

Cas sucks in a sharp breath and nods. “I’m ok.” Which is a lie. A complete and utter lie. What he just witnessed, he shakes his head and swallows thickly. His hands still tremble and his stomach twists when Dean continues to stare at him.

Dean glares at Balthazar and Ephraim and the two monks give hasty goodbyes before retreating.

“You didn’t tell him.” Gabriel folds his arms over his chest accusingly.

Dean frowns at Gabriel but shrugs his answer. “Come, Cas,” He says softly and Cas’ shoulders slump as he nods.

He wants to ask, he wants to understand why Dean spared him but Gabriel’s words cause him to hold his tongue. Castiel closes his eyes tightly and scrubs a hand over his face as his stomach flops.

The sun is beginning to sink in the sky and Dean directs Castiel to the kitchens to work, saying that he needs to speak with Benny.

Cas feels hollow as he watches Dean walk away but he does as he’s told, hoping that work will ease his tumultuous thoughts.

Later, Dean comes to retrieve him and leads Castiel to his room instead of the barn.

Cas crosses the threshold with trepidation and he watches the floor intently as Dean bustles about the room lighting lanterns. He swallows hard as he considers that perhaps he allowed himself to become too complacent. Perhaps Dean has garnered the wrong idea.

Suddenly, the barn seems to be a desirable place to be and Cas clenches his eyes against his fears.

“I promised,” Dean says, standing in front of Cas with his green eyes staring into Castiel’s blue ones. He cups Castiel’s chin and brushes his thumb over the arch of Castiel’s cheek.

Cas struggles not to pull away from the gentle touch as his stomach squirms uncomfortably while he stares into the deep green of Dean’s eyes.

Dean’s throat constricts when he swallows and Castiel watches the flex of muscle as his lingering fears begin to swell in his stomach. Dean seems to understand Cas’ confused thoughts because he pats Cas cheek with a wry smile and turns away to gather an armful of furs that he carefully arranges in front of the fireplace at the foot of his bed.

Cas watches Dean work with narrowed eyes but he doesn’t move from where he stands next to the table. Today’s events have given him much to think about but his heart still flutters as he watches as Dean’s arrangement begins to resemble a bed and his lips curl into a watery smile when Dean looks toward him with his bottom lip held tightly between his teeth.

“Cas, rest,” Dean says softly as he gestures to the soft nest covering the floor.

Cas nods and goes as directed, seeing what Dean is asking him. He sinks to his knees in the pile of furs and begins to arrange them to his liking as an excuse to not look at Dean.

“Stay,” Dean whispers and Cas nods as he watches Dean leave the room. The door closes quietly behind Dean and Cas makes himself comfortable as he considers Dean’s motives.

Castiel huffs at that thought. He knows what Dean wants, Gabriel said as much, but Dean isn’t willing to simply take. He wants Cas to give himself freely. And that is something Castiel doesn’t think himself capable of.

He uses the time to study his surroundings in greater detail than he had previously. Without its owner present, the large chamber seems dull and lifeless although meticulously kept.

Cas isn’t certain why the inherent order of this bedchamber surprises him.

Dean defies many of the things that Cas had been taught of the Norsemen.

Cas scans the room, gaze lingering on the wide bed that looks far too large for only one man. Castiel’s bed at the abbey had been little more than an austere cot. By comparison, Dean lives in luxury.

The rest of the space is simple but comfortable. A strong reflection of the man who lives here.

Cas sucks in a harsh breath and clenches his eyes against the unwanted thought. Dean is anything but comfortable. He is terrifying, harsh, and deadly. Castiel needs to remember that.

Dean returns quickly with a heavily laden tray of fresh meats and bread that cause Cas’ stomach to rumble. The delicious aroma wafts toward Cas and he clenches his eyes closed against the sight as he turns away from Dean’s meal regardless of how he hopes that Dean means to share.

“Cas,” Dean says, tone bright and inviting. “Come eat,” Dean sets the large tray on his well-worn table and beckons Cas with a wave of his hand.

Cas turns his gaze to Dean and feels cautious hope blooming in his chest. Dean waves again and Cas timidly pushes to his feet and wanders over. His stomach feels nearly ready to claw its way from his body in its quest for a decent meal.

Cas’ hand hovers over his demanding belly as if somehow the gesture will mask the audible churning. The corners of Dean’s mouth tick upward as Cas approaches. Each step toward the table becomes easier than the last.

“Sit,” Dean urges with an assuring smile and he pulls out a chair for Castiel to take.

Cas sits stiffly, scanning the table for any sign that Dean isn’t offering what he says he is.

“Eat,” Dean says, gesturing toward the towering platter of food that Cas eyes hungrily. The green-eyed man plucks a squab leg from the platter and takes a huge mouthful while Cas continues to stare. “Eat,” Dean says again, voice muffled as he speaks through his mouthful of food.

Cas sucks in a breath and tries not to scowl at Dean’s atrocious manners but he decides to trust that Dean is earnest in his offer. He slowly picks up the smallest piece of meat he can see while watching carefully for a sign of reprimand as he lifts the hunk of boar to his lips.

He moans around the taste of the rich meat as he forces himself to slowly chew and Dean’s eyes track his motions hungrily. The fine hairs on the back of Castiel’s neck prickle and he clamps down on any further sounds of pleasure.

“You’re too thin,” Dean says when he finally swallows. He points the remainder of his squab leg at Cas as their eyes meet. “You will stay here now, and I will make sure you eat well.”

Cas cocks his head, mind racing to piece together Dean’s words. “You want me...here?” Cas stammers, scarcely believing Dean’s words.

“I have wanted you here from the beginning.” Dean nods. “Now eat,” Dean says as he gestures to the platter in front of them.

Cas can’t help the pleased smile that plays at the corners of his mouth as he reaches for another chunk of meat. He doesn’t quite know the words that Dean speaks, but his meaning is clear enough.

He may have wanted anything else when he was first brought here but now, he knows staying with Dean will undoubtedly be better than the barn. At the very least, he’ll be safe from Azazel.

The two men finish their meal in silence and Dean leaves to clear away the platter. The moment the door shuts behind the man, Cas hurries to his new bed of furs and wraps himself in a large pelt he thinks might have once belonged to a bear and angles himself to face the darkened fireplace.

When Dean returns, Cas feigns sleep but listens intently to the sound of Dean peeling off his shoes and shuffling around the room quietly to snuff out the lanterns.

Cas relaxes into his nest when it becomes clear that Dean isn’t going to disturb him and Dean lets out an amused chuckle that informs Cas that he wasn’t fooling anyone.

Cas can’t help the way his lips curl into a faint smile as he listens to the man climb into his gargantuan bed.

For the first time since he was stolen from his home, Cas feels a tendril of hope growing deep in his chest. He can use Dean’s favor to his advantage if nothing else.

He slowly drifts to sleep, lulled by the sound of Dean’s soft snores in the quiet of the large room as his fingers toys with the iron band tucked in his pocket. Eventually, visions of freedom and bright green eyes fill his dreams and Cas sleeps better than he has in a very long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for reading. I would love to hear from you!


	9. Attacked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inias cannot resist provoking Dean, but Cas is stunned into silence when Dean doesn't rise to the bait. Later, Lilith makes a bold move that leaves Cas reeling and Dean is surprised by the questions Cas demands answers to.

Cas stares down at the softened earth below his feet and smiles softly. Weeks of hard work have gotten them here, tiny plants are beginning to emerge from the newly amended soil, their tiny leaves reaching for the sky in a way that leaves Castiel’s heart feeling satisfied.

Nurturing new life is a task to be proud of regardless of the circumstances.

Beans, carrots, parsnips, and wild garlic and onions that some of his brothers had foraged for in the surrounding forest.

All will be filling their stomachs by fall.

According to Sam, this is the most effort their village has put into gardens and never before have their plantings shown so much promise.

When he was first ordered to dig, he had never seen such pitiful dirt for planting. The soil was rocky and more dust than anything suitable for growing.

Pathetic.

He and his brothers suggested interring manure from the livestock and clay from the riverbed into the soil to increase the odds of their plants surviving. At the abbey, they tended to the soil as diligently as their crops and the earth was kind to them.

Next year, this soil will be easier to work.

Next year.

Cas clenches his eyes and forces himself to take a deep breath at the thought.

The pride in his work evaporates under the despair of knowing this is what his life has become.

He has been waiting for Dean to stop pitying him or lose interest and send him back to the barn but to his consternation, Dean’s smiles only grow warmer with each passing day.

The longer this goes on, the more Cas finds himself hoping that maybe this period of comfort will last and he hates himself for it.

The comfort Dean provides may be welcome, but Castiel cannot allow himself to be lulled into complacency.

What truly puzzles him, is how Dean’s green eyes all but sparkle each time he thanks the man for the good food and Cas is nearly certain that Dean’s pleasure has little to do with Castiel’s willing obedience.

Dean seems genuinely pleased to provide for him.

And that confuses Castiel greatly.

Perhaps that kindness is his Saxon heritage shining through. John of Winchester was a good man, a noble man. It would follow that his sons are cut to be the same.

Cas huffs and shakes his head, chastising himself for allowing those wayward thoughts.

Whatever kind of man Dean might have been was lost the moment his father was slain and Samuel spirited him away.

“Castiel!” Inias calls to him and pulls Cas from his reverie. He finds his thoughts have been circling Dean too frequently over the last days and the odd warmth low in his stomach is something Cas thinks that he might become accustomed to if he isn’t careful.

Cas rests his spade against the fence rail and lifts his chin to smile warmly at his brother. As he crosses the open space toward the garden with a contented smile.

Inias has always been special to him, a favored brother, and he is pleased to see him looking well.

Cas’ gaze flits to Dean, as has become his habit, only to find the man watching Cas out of the corner of his eye as he confers with Benny, but the man makes no move to interfere.

Another improvement Castiel has noticed.

“Inias,” Cas says warmly as he opens his arms but keeps a careful watch on Dean as Inias steps into his embrace.

Dean’s eyes narrow but he quickly looks away and Cas smiles to himself in satisfaction.

Perhaps the heathen can be trained as well.

“Me, Samandriel, Balthazar and some of the others are going to bathe in the stream just north of the village. Will you join us?” Inias asks lightly and sudden nervousness tightens in Cas’ throat.

“I,” He starts as he draws back to put some space between them. “I cannot,” he says with a hard swallow. His heart clenches with worry and he hates that his fear has little to do with seeking permission to go.

Inias’ features tighten and he narrows his eyes. “Will your _master_ not allow you to bathe?”

Cas’ heart rate increases enough to leave him almost breathless and he shakes his head vehemently despite Inias’ scalding tone. Truthfully, he doesn’t know if Dean would allow him to go but he doesn’t care what Dean’s opinion on the matter is.

He doesn’t intend to ask.

Inias scowls and shakes his head, taking Castiel’s silence as confirmation. “He is a monster.”

Cas disagrees but he cannot be so bold as to voice his opinion. He takes a step back from Inias as he notices Dean approaching them with quick steps. “You should go. I’ll be fine,” Cas says as he gestures for Inias to go but his brother turns to watch Dean approach instead.

Inias curls his upper lip in a sneer and glares at the Norseman. “Why won’t you let him bathe in the stream with the rest of us?” Inias demands in broken Norse and Cas steps back as he listens to the harsh words spill from Inias’ lips.

“Inias, don’t.” Cas puts himself between Dean and his brother as his stomach lurches.

Dean’s head rears back slightly and his brows scrunch as he takes in the man’s venom laced tone and he looks at Cas with wide eyes. “Cas want to go?” Dean asks, using some of the few words of English he knows.

Cas swallows hard. The motion is enough to force his lips into a frown and his eyes slide closed as he collects himself. His throat tightens around the words, not wishing to disappoint his brother but wanting to go to the stream even less.

“Cas?” Dean asks, his tone softening enough to convince Cas to meet his gaze. “Cas go?” He reaches out to nudge Cas’ shoulder but Castiel finds himself frozen in place.

His chest tightens unbearably and breathing is near impossible. Why? Why does Dean have to choose now to relax his grip?

“Cas?” Dean says again and Inias scowls.

“He’s terrified of you, you brute,” Inias sneers as he grasps Cas’ elbow to lead him away before Dean can say another word.

“Dean,” Cas finally manages to croak and Inias stops tugging him along. Dean stands where they left him, watching but not stopping Inias. He’s going to let Cas go and for once, Cas wants Dean to put his foot down.

Dean’s head tilts and he gives Cas a small nod of permission.

Cas feels bile rising in his throat and it takes everything he has to turn away from the green-eyed Norseman and walk with his brother toward the stream.

The hike through the forest is short and passes in silence. Inias takes Cas’ hand gingerly but Cas can’t find it in himself to be a participant. His hand rests limps in his brother’s and eventually, Inias releases him with a puzzled glance.

They come upon a clearing that Cas can hear before he lays eyes on the rushing water of the shallow stream. Cas would have otherwise admired the beauty of the tall pines and deep green undergrowth, but the sight of the small offshoot of the river that brought them here and the handful of other slaves mingling with his brothers has panic clawing at his throat instead.

He turns to go back but Balthazar catches him in a firm grip. “Are you alright, Cassie?” Balt asks as he holds Cas’ arms firmly. He searches Cas’ eyes until he finds what he’s looking for and finally releases him. “It’s good to see you, little brother. That man of yours finally letting you out of his sight?” Balthazar’s brows waggle and Cas’ stomach churns at the insinuation.

Castiel shakes his head as Inias intervenes.

“Castiel is fine, Balthazar.” Inias snags Cas’ elbow and draws him a step back.

Cas goes like a puppet, mind still stumbling over the fact that he’s alone with his brothers for the first time in weeks. And Dean all but forced him to go.

Gadreel and Ezekiel stand stoic guard over Samandriel as he begins to undress. His robes are left discarded on a large boulder as he lowers himself into the cool water with a look of invigorated bliss on his face.

No one moves to harm him and Cas forces himself to take deep breaths, trying to convince himself that no one will.

One of the Norse slaves shouts to Samandriel and Cas’ heart leaps but the man only tosses a small bundle toward the young monk and Alfie catches it with a carefree smile.

Soon enough, others join Alfie in the stream while Cas stands frozen next to Inias. His thoughts churn, the idea of undressing and making himself vulnerable cause his stomach to sour and his pulse to quicken.

He cannot join them.

He will not.

“Castiel?” Balthazar questions once again.

Cas turns to him with wide eyes and Balthazar lets out a huff of laughter.

“Ever the prude, aren’t you Cassie?” Balthazar says jokingly and Cas forces himself to smile.

“Why don’t you go ahead, Inias? I will be fine.” Cas offers with a wave of his hand. He’s grateful for Balthazar’s distraction because yes, Castiel has always been a bit of a prude, as Balthazar would say, and this is a perfect excuse to hide himself now.

“Are you certain, brother?” Inias questions and his grip on Cas’ arm disappears altogether. His deft fingers stroke lightly over Cas’ bicep and his gaze rakes up and down Cas’ form with interest. “You aren’t still injured from the banquet, are you?”

Cas forces himself to smile. “Merely bruises. I’m fine. I would simply prefer to wash myself in private.”

Balthazar breaks into a laugh and playfully punches Cas’ shoulder. “One day you’re going to show us all how wild you can be, Cassie,” He says playfully as he steps away to join the others.

“Just because you’re a jezebel doesn’t mean we all are!” Cas calls after him and shakes his head with a fond smile. Balthazar’s loose interpretations of their vows are well known and his time in Laugar has proven no different.

The man has already developed a reputation amongst the ladies of the village and Dean _hates_ that he is so free with his affections.

Cas is only mildly amused.

Balthazar has taken to Viking life like a duck to water and Cas cannot find a reason to fault him for adapting so readily.

A deep spike of jealously flares low in Cas’ gut as he watches his easy-going brother stride toward the water. Balthazar gave up his robes within a week of their arrival and several others followed suit, including Gabriel.

Castiel wishes he could bring himself to be so flexible but the thought of stripping out of his familiar clothes leaves him feeling exposed and too vulnerable to be safe.

No.

He will keep watch over everyone with Gadreel and Ezekiel.

He approaches his brothers slowly and gives them a nod in greeting.

“Castiel.” Gadreel is the first to speak and his words sound stilted as they leave his mouth. “Has Dean been treating you decently?”

Cas frowns but nods. “He has. Surprisingly.”

“That is well, brother,” Ezekiel says with a nod. “After the banquet, we were concerned. Dean has been keeping you to himself.”

Cas nods once again. That is true, but for reasons Castiel would prefer not to discuss. His body finally feels healed from the injuries Alastair inflicted upon him and he would be glad to leave the incident unmentioned for the rest of time.

Cas watches out of the corner of his eye as Inias undresses. His lean and lithe body is as blemish-free as ever and Cas finds himself glad to see his brothers free from the bruises that litter his own body.

The Norse are harsh people but the majority of them seem to be fair.

“Where are Virgil and Metatron?” Castiel asks openly as he scans the area.

Gadreel shrugs. “Metatron has work to do.”

“More like he considers us unworthy of his presence,” Ezekiel says with a huff. “I fear Virgil is having a difficult time adjusting, he seemed quite nervous when I approached him.”

Castiel pinches a frown and nods. Virgil has acted strange each time Cas has glimpsed the man but he has not had the opportunity or the will to approach him. Castiel has had his own problems that he has been selfishly fixating on.

“Castiel!” Inias calls as he steps from the water and Cas is quick to duck his eyes when he notices his friend’s nude form in the open air. Inias steps to his robes and tugs them on while his skin still glistens with moisture from the stream. “Are you certain you don’t wish to bathe? Dean is not here to stop you.” Inias tone is teasing as he approaches and Cas shakes his head in answer

Cas sucks in a breath and tries his best to ignore the light brush of Inias’ fingers over his bare wrist and fingers but he finds himself pulling away regardless. “I believe I will return to the village now. It was good to see you all,” Cas says, not proud of how high his tone has pitched but he doesn’t leave anyone a chance to respond.

He quickly turns on his heel and hurries down the path before anyone can stop him.

Trees stretch high above and silence surrounds him as he walks. He does his best to keep his steps light and his motions easy, but the fine hairs at the back his neck stand on end while his skin crawls with the distinct feeling of being watched.

His imagination threatens to get the best of him and his pulse quickens he quickens his steps. His eyes slide closed for a moment as he tries to convince himself that no one is lurking behind trees, waiting for him to step into their trap. The idea is outrageous and yet Cas tastes the bitter tang of fear in the back of his throat.

Even if one of his brothers followed him, they will not bring him harm.

His heart is racing pointlessly.

When he’s far enough away from the stream, he lets out a heavy breath and turns off the path to lean against a tree. The soft scent of pine fills his nose as he breathes and birds chirp happily in the distance.

There is nothing to fear.

He listens to the birds, willing their cheerful song to soothe his frayed nerves. If only he could share in the simple joy of birds flying free.

He curses his cowardness as heart hammers and he tries to catch his breath but his chest tenses and shudders regardless. His eyes burn with unshed tears as he tries and fails to calm himself in his frustration.

He’s fine. No one there was going to hurt him. None of his brothers would judge the ugly bruises that he’s only dared to examine in the privacy of Dean’s room while alone. They all saw what happened, they should know what to expect.

But Cas knows that his bruises aren’t the only reason for his impending panic.

His eyes slam closed and he forces himself to take a deep breath.

“Cas!” A voice breaks the peaceful quiet of the forest and Cas whimpers as he scurries toward the path as his heart races at the familiar tone. He starts down the path toward the village, eager to return to the safety of Dean’s room. He isn’t trying to run. He isn’t! Benny has no reason to come after him.

He’s done nothing wrong.

Tears prickle in the corners of his eyes and his stomach lurches with fear and self-loathing.

He never imagined himself to be a brave man but his captivity has only proven that he is more fearful than a rabbit being pursued by a fox.

Never before has he felt such shame for his being and no matter how he resolves to be stronger, he finds himself quaking where he stands.

“Cas! Wait!” Benny’s voice calls again and Cas quickens his steps. He can hear the gravel crush and shift under Benny’s footfalls as he jogs to catch up and Cas’ insides quiver in trepidation.

He thinks he might be ill.

“Cas,” Benny says as he falls into step next to him. He doesn’t make a move to stop Cas’ momentum and for that, Cas’ heart races all the faster.

Cas swallows hard and keeps walking with his gaze trained directly ahead.

“Cas, stop,” Benny says and Cas’ heart sinks at the softly spoken command. He comes to a sudden halt and Benny sidles around to face him. “Are you ok?”

Cas’ eyes narrow and his head tilts at the simple question spoken. Cas gives a jerky nod, not quite trusting his voice.

Benny nods with a frown. “You don’t look ok.”

Cas chews his lip and furrows his brow as he tries to place Benny’s words. His head tilts as he considers and his confusion provides a slight distraction from his fears. Benny’s eyes are soft and his arms hang loosely at his sides. Not threatening.

Cas sucks in a heavy breath and forces himself to look past his apprehension.

“What means look?” Cas asks in broken Norse. He’s glad that his voice only cracks a little.

Benny huffs and shakes his head before pointing to his eyes and gesturing outward. “Look,” He repeats. “You look…uh…not good.” He mimes the words as he speaks, making himself look strange but Castiel does not see his pride suffering for his patience.

Cas tilts his head again and considers what Benny might mean. Benny has never been cruel to him. The one time he was rough was when Cas had tried to escape. Cas understands that Benny was only doing his job then and he could have been within his right to hurt Cas.

By all rights, he _should_ have hurt him.

Severely.

But he chose not to.

“I.” Cas starts but shakes his head. Benny knows what happened to him in that clearing with Alastair. “You saw?” He asks, pointing back up the path toward the stream.

Benny nods solemnly. “Yes. My job is to watch,” He says and Cas thinks he understands Benny’s meaning well enough. He isn’t surprised that someone would be tasked to spy on them and he finds the tension in his chest unknotting knowing that Benny’s careful eye is there to look after them.

Cas nods again and sucks in a heavy breath. “Not ok,” Cas admits. He keeps his tone soft to indicate that he’s speaking of himself and not of Benny’s duties.

“Walk together?” Benny asks and Cas’ brows scrunch. Benny seems to understand that his meaning was lost on him. “You. Me. Walk.” Benny indicates each word with his hands. “Together,” He says again and Cas nods in understanding.

“Yes,” Cas agrees, not seeing that he has another choice. Benny is not poor company at least.

Benny is safe.

“Good, Cas,” Benny says with a smile and gestures for them to move.

They walk side by side in silence with Cas stealing furtive glances at the other man as they go. His heart begins to calm in Benny’s quiet presence and soon, Cas is breathing easier.

Benny looks at Cas openly a few times. He opens his mouth as if about to speak but then closes it again and turns his gaze forward.

The village comes into view after only a few short minutes and Cas is glad to be back.

“Cas!” Sam calls and jogs over with a smile. “Did you enjoy the time with your brothers?” He asks in earnest and Cas doesn’t have the heart to be truthful.

“I did.” Cas nods and flinches a smile but Sam isn’t fooled.

“Did something happen?” Sam asks and glances at Benny, his eyes demanding an answer.

Benny shrugs and Cas shakes his head.

“No. Nothing happened.” Cas hurries to dismiss. He can’t bring himself to meet Sam or Benny’s gaze.

“He was upset,” Benny says and Sam’s eyes narrow.

Cas shoots Benny a quick glare. He may not understand all of the man’s words, but he knows enough to feel betrayed.

Sam’s brow scrunches and his expression grows troubled as he regards Castiel.

“Everything was fine, Sam,” Cas defends but Sam’s head tilts in a challenging way.

“What happened?” Sam asks, looking at Cas for an answer but he still glances at Benny for confirmation.

“Did you tell him to follow me? Did Dean?” Cas asks instead. His tone comes out hard and demanding but he isn’t afraid of Sam any more than he’s still afraid of Dean.

Sam shakes his head. “No. Keeping watch is his job.”

Cas wrinkles his nose and shakes his head in disgust, his anger rising hard and fast to consume his reasonable thoughts. “Watching so we don’t run away.”

“Castiel,” Benny says as he gives Cas’ shoulder a harsh jab of reprimand. He says Cas’ name as a warning and Cas simply gives him an unimpressed glare.

“That and to keep you safe.” Sam folds his arms over his chest, his patience growing thin. “You might try being a little less defensive sometimes. We’re not out to hurt you.”

Cas huffs and shakes his head. Not out to hurt him. Right. They’ve already hurt him and his brothers plenty by stealing them from their home. “Safe,” Cas says the single word with derision.

Benny mutters something to Sam in Norse while Cas is stewing in his thoughts and Cas startles when he feels a solid weight land on his shoulder. He turns a pinched gaze up to Sam, wordlessly waiting for the younger man to say whatever it is he’s going to say.

“Cas. Benny said you seemed afraid of something. That is why he came out of the trees to walk with you.” Sam explains with a slight gesture to Benny.

Cas’ shoulders deflate and he shakes his head sadly as his anger deflates. Benny doesn’t deserve his ire.

He was more than afraid. He was terrified. And for no discernible reason. “I was fine, Sam.”

Sam gives him a skeptical look and shakes his head. “Cas, if anyone has tried to hurt you, you need to tell us. Even if it’s one of your brothers.”

Cas huffs and closes his eyes, begging the Lord for patience in the face of his feeble humanity. “No one tried to harm me, Sam. I don’t need your protection.” He turns to Benny. “I’m ok.”

Benny looks like he doesn’t believe him and Sam’s hazel eyes widen and turn to Cas in the most pitiful expression Cas has ever seen. Sam looks like a kicked puppy, not at all like the fearsome warrior Cas knows him to be.

Cas does his best to ignore the younger Viking’s wide-eyed look and he shakes himself of the guilt building low in his gut at the sight of Sam’s pout. He will not be swayed. “Benny, thank you for walking with me, but I’m fine.” He forces a shred of politeness to leave his mouth toward Benny but he knows the man won’t understand most of his words.

Sam can translate if he wants to know.

Cas’ heart stutters as he turns away before being dismissed and begins walking toward the garden where he left his spade. He half expects Benny to stop him and haul him back, but the command never comes so Cas keeps walking.

The sun is beginning to sink in the sky so Cas scoops up his abandoned spade and pouch of seeds to put them away in the barn.

A benefit of staying in Dean’s chamber is that he is expected to cease his work in the garden early and prepare Dean’s meal in the kitchen instead.

His brothers aren’t back yet but Lilith’s sneering face is there to greet him instead.

“Lazy Christian,” She grumbles as he rests the spade on its hook and does his absolute best to ignore her. “Your master isn’t here to protect you now.”

Cas’ breath seizes at her derisive words, regardless of the truth to them. He drops the bag of seeds and turns away, intent on leaving. He has work to do.

Harsh fingers dig into his arm and Lilith wrenches him around. “I’m not done with you.” Her lips twist in a sneer and Cas narrows his eyes dangerously.

“Let go,” He says, pitching his tone low. The meaning behind her words is lost but her tone says enough. He pulls his arm away and moves to leave. He does not have the patience for her hatred right now.

Lilith crowds into his space and digs something hard and sharp into his ribs. She spits words that Cas cannot begin to understand but he hears enough venom in her tone to be certain that she isn’t saying anything he wants to hear.

Cas lets out a low growl and shoves at her shoulders. He may not be a fighter, but he isn’t going to allow her to push him around.

She isn’t expecting him to resist and she stumbles back with a bitten off snarl but the dangerous gleam in her blue eyes only grows stronger.

Something glints in the low light of the barn and Cas’ eyes widen to see a small dagger in her hand. Anger begins to boil low in Cas’ stomach and replaces the fear that has become a permanent fixture in his life. “You’re threatening me,” He bites with a scowl to match Lilith’s.

He sucks in a harsh breath and glares when she crouches as if to attack and his gaze flits to the closed door of the barn briefly.

Cas’ spade is directly behind him and he reaches for it now. The wooden handle, worn smooth with use, fits in his hands perfectly and Cas holds it at the ready with the sharpened iron blade pointed toward Lilith.

Her smile turns Cas’ stomach and the glint in her eyes turns feral. Immediately, Cas feels foolish for challenging her. He learned not long after his capture that Viking women are every bit as fierce as the men. He’s made a mistake.

A terrible mistake.

“Christian fight?” Lilith says mockingly as she laughs. Her eyes betray a faint amount of surprise but her expression is otherwise far too gleeful as she circles him with her knife at the ready. “Good.”

Cas keeps his makeshift weapon trained on her and his back to the wall as he inches toward the door. He doesn’t want to fight her. He can’t bring himself to consider the punishment he would face if he were to injure a Norse woman, even if she is a slave.

Jarl Samuel might have him put to death and Cas doubts Dean would be able to save him.

Lilith lunges toward him and Cas swings the spade. He connects with her wrist, although not well enough to knock the blade from her hand, he buys himself another moment to creep toward the door.

“Let me go, Lilith,” Cas demands, hoping he’s found the right words through his adrenaline-fueled haze. His heart is lodged in his throat and makes his words come out stiff and choked sounding enough to draw another derisive laugh from his attacker.

“Stupid, Castiel,” Lilith says with a fresh sneer and Cas’ cheeks heat in anger. “Are you tired of being Dean’s pet yet?”

He knows he’s weak. He knows he’s a coward. But he is managing to do what he must to survive this trial. Never did he think to prepare for being taken as a slave by the Norse warriors.

He was a simple laundry boy in the castle of his youth before the Viking raiders came and killed both Castiel’s mother and the King of Wessex. Afterward, he was raised within the safe walls of the monastery away from conflict and danger.

His life has not prepared him for this.

“Move,” Cas demands as he firms his jaw and jabs his spade in her direction. He’s near the door now, all he needs to do is push her around a few more steps and reach behind himself to undo the latch.

The loose straw underfoot threatens his balance when Lilith launches a counterattack but he reaches the door. His heart hammers wildly and his breath comes in short heaves yet his focus remains steady.

He grips the spade tighter in his right hand as he reaches back with his left. The bar that holds the door closed is heavy and his spirits sink with the realization that he is going to need both hands to open it.

His breath stills in his lungs as he heaves the spade directly toward Lilith before he spins to pull open the heavy door. He hears her grunt and sidesteps his makeshift weapon but her feet scuff through the straw quickly.

Her fingers close on his shoulder and he spins to pull the door with a heave as he’s wrenched backward and slammed against the wall. A sharp sting drags across his forearm and the sleeve of his robe catches on her knife but Cas is too busy struggling against her hold to pay his bloodied arm any mind.

Lilith pins him with a growl that turns into a sickly-sweet smile as she spins the hilt of the knife around and drops the blade into his pocket. “For when you tire of being Dean’s whore.” She says lowly before shoving him hard against the wall before stepping back.

She drops her chin and glares threateningly through her lashes as she smirks and Cas takes advantage of the reprieve to dart through the still-open door.

He hears a low laugh as he crosses the threshold and he breaks into an immediate run. Her words cycle through his mind but he doesn’t understand them. The knife in his pocket bumps against Dean’s iron band and he clenches his eyes in hopes that the sharp edge doesn’t cut through his robes and into his leg.

His legs pump and his heart pounds as he focuses only on the far end of the longhouse where Dean’s room sits.

He can decipher her meaning and examine the knife later.

Strong hands wrap around his arms and Cas is forced to a sudden halt. He nearly loses his balance with the unexpected force and he lashes out blindly at his assailant with a strangled cry.

“Cas!” A frustrated voice shouts and he’s given a near-violent shake that manages to break Cas out of his frenzied panic.

“Dean!” Cas gasps, finally recognizing who he’s collided with. He reaches for the man and ducks his chin. “Sorry, sorry, I’m sorry,” he says the words like a plea and his fingers tighten in the loose shirt Dean wears.

“Cas,” Dean says and his grip on Cas’ arms loosen. “What happened? Are you hurt?” Dean asks. He pulls Cas closer, encouraging him to cling and his soft tone has burning tears prickling in the corners of Castiel’s eyes.

His fists Dean’s shirt and pulls himself close, hating his weakness but needing this at the same time. “Sorry, sorry,” Cas says on repeat. The handfuls of Norse words he knows flee his mind as his panic crests and causes his knees to tremble.

“Cas,” Dean says softly and wraps his strong arms around Cas’ shoulders and pulls him ever closer. He encourages Cas to lean against his strong chest and Cas finds his nose buried in the crook of Dean’s neck.

Cas’ heaving breaths slow and his pulse skitters and flutters for a reason other than fear as he breathes in the faint scent that is uniquely _Dean_.

“Ok. Cas ok,” Dean says gently and Cas struggles to hold in the sob that builds in his chest. “What happened?”

Cas forces himself to take a deep breath and swallow his shame as he pushes himself away from Dean’s chest. He offers him a broken smile as his cheeks flush crimson and he shakes his head.

How weak he must seem to the Norse warrior.

“What happened?” Dean watches him expectantly and Cas knows that the man isn’t going to let him go without an answer.

“Lilith,” Cas says quietly and Dean’s expression immediately darkens as his gaze rakes over Cas from head to toe.

“Hurt,” Dean says darkly as he reaches for Cas’ hand.

Only then does Cas realize the thin rivulets of crimson trailing down his hand and dripping from his fingertips. His eyes widen as Dean takes his bloodied hand in his and pushes back the sleeve of Cas’ robe.

“Lilith hurt you?” Dean says with a hardened tone that has Cas shrinking back.

Cas shakes his head and groans low in his throat when he notices the red smears marring Dean’s shirt. “Dean,” He says, pointing to the stains. “I’m sorry, so sorry.”

Dean looks down at the blood on his shirt and then to Cas’ arm before he shrugs. “Only blood,” He says dismissively. “Come, wash.”

Cas sucks in a breath and nods, hating himself just a little bit more for his behavior. He has no business seeking comfort from his enemy and yet his first instinct was to run to him. He sighs and scrubs his hand over his face as his heart settles into a lopsided rhythm as Dean takes his hand.

He swallows hard as his fingers twitch involuntarily against Dean’s and his heart aches with how far he has fallen. Somehow, the wall he had built in his mind to keep Dean’s charms at a distance is crumbling but Dean’s hand is warm around his and he’s just so tired of fighting.

His other hand drifts over the knife in his pocket, the outline obscured by the thick material of his robes and he considers what game Lilith is playing. She attacked him and then armed him.

The whole attack makes no sense.

He shakes his head with a frown.

“Dean?” Castiel asks timidly when the door closes behind them.

Dean meets his gaze with a nod that Castiel takes as permission to continue.

Cas frowns, trying to remember how to say the word Lilith had thrown at him when she deposited the knife into his pocket. “What.” He swallows thickly. “What is whore?”

Dean’s expression darkens and his shoulders draw back as he stands taller but Castiel refuses to back down despite the way Dean’s eyes widen fractionally. They stare at one another as silence fills the room and Cas feels his heart start to patter faster.

Finally, Dean wrinkles his nose and frowns as his eyes track upward. “Whore is a slave for sex.”

Cas narrows his eyes, trying to remember if he knows that last word and he shakes his head when he only understands that a whore is a type of slave. “Am I… whore?”

Dean’s expression goes from tense to horrified and Cas takes a step back with a furrowed brow. “No. No.” Dean shakes his head and steps forward until he’s invading Castiel’s space and he takes Castiel’s hands in his and gives them a gentle shake. “Not whore.”

Lilith called him Dean’s whore. Cas is sure of that.

Cas lets out a frustrated breath and shakes his head as he pulls away and puts space between them. “What is sex?” He demands, firming his jaw as he watches Dean squirm.

Dean scrubs a hand over his face and shakes his head harshly. “Why?” Dean stares and swallows hard with a stricken look.

“What is sex?” Cas repeats, holding his chin high. If Dean doesn’t want to answer his question, then Cas wants to know all the more.

Dean swallows hard, the click of his throat working is nearly audible in the deafening silence. “Sex is…” Dean starts but trails off with a huff as he strides across the room toward Cas. He stops only a few inches away and strokes his fingers lightly over Cas’ cheek as he frowns. “I don’t know how to explain,” He says softly into the scant space between them.

Cas narrows his eyes but doesn’t pull away. Dean’s tone is gentle, honest, and laced with pain. He’s heard those words from Dean before. Usually followed by a visit to Sam and Gabriel for a translation.

But no offer to go to Sam comes forward.

Dean either doesn’t know how to explain or doesn’t want to.

Cas closes his eyes and brings a hand to his brow as he turns away from Dean and sinks into his pile of furs. He bites his tongue as a new kind of ache fills his heart. He is so tired of speaking in stilted sentences and not understanding what the people around him are saying.

He is not a stupid man. He knows he isn’t, and yet each broken conversation makes him feel like an idiot. Dean will never come to respect him if they can’t even speak to one another.

“Cas?” Dean follows him, pointing to his still bloodied arm and Cas huffs and shakes his head as he holds his arm out for Dean to inspect. “Where did you hear _whore_?” Dean takes his arm and pushes back Cas’ sleeve to expose the cut.

Cas watches before snorting and pulling his arm back. The amount of blood made the slight injury appear far worse than it is. “It’s ok.” Cas ignores Dean’s question. He only understands half the words anyway.

He’ll ask Gabriel later.

Maybe he’ll ask Gabe to teach him more Norse too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for reading. I would love to hear what you think of this week's developments. What do you think Lilith's motives are here?
> 
> Next time, we return to Dean's point of view and what Castiel knows about Dean's sword and past is revealed.


	10. Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is having a rough day. Somehow, Cas makes it better.

Dean lays sprawled on his bed as his mind continues to fixate on the night after Cas had run blindly into his arms. Having Cas in his arms had set Dean’s heart to soar despite Cas’ panic and he only wanted to hold the man closer.

He got what he wanted, if only for a moment, and his stomach sours at the thought. Cas was terrified and all he could think about was how good Cas felt in his arms. The feeling of Cas’ fingers twisting in his shirt and his hot nose against the crook of Dean’s neck had nearly made him weak in the knees.

Surely Odin must have been toying with him to gift a mocking taste of his desires.

He blinks at the ceiling, trying to clear his thoughts but his heart feels heavy all over again as he remembers their stilted conversation when Cas had calmed.

Cas is not his whore and he won’t be. Ever.

After Dean’s vehement denial and failed attempt to explain, Cas distanced himself and only reluctantly left his bed when Dean ordered him to come to eat.

For a moment, Cas’ narrowed eyes glare made Dean certain that he destroyed what little progress he had made with that simple command but then Cas climbed to his feet and crossed the room without a word of protest.

Cas had scowled as he dropped into his chair and reached for a hunk of bread while glaring at Dean with the degree of petulance Dean had thought only Sam to be capable of.

Cas’ glare only grew more severe when Dean had to bite his cheek to keep from smiling.

Dean had laughed outright when Cas took both of the honeyed cakes from the tray and carried them to his bed where he stared at Dean with narrowed eyes as he ate, daring Dean to demand his share.

Even pouting, Cas is adorable and Dean was relieved to see him act without fear in his presence.

Unfortunately, his bemusement isn’t enough to fix things between them.

Dean frowns at the ceiling and closes his eyes as he lets out a heavy breath before scrubbing a hand over his face. His stubble scratches his palm and his eyes burn as he forces them to stay open and deal with the new day.

He huffs to himself as he remembers the fire in Gabriel’s eyes when he had cornered Dean and dared to raise his voice the night Cas had tried to escape, after Dean had handed down his punishment and sent Cas to bed in the barn.

Some punishment that was.

If his father knew… Dean shakes his head, dispelling the thought.

Samuel can never know.

_You’re an idiot, Dean. Treating him so roughly. No wonder he’s terrified of you!_ Dean can hear Gabriel’s voice in his mind as clearly as when the man had shouted the words while Sam had watched with mounting horror and tried to place himself between them.

Gabriel’s words made Dean angry but they were all he could think about the night of the banquet as Samuel towered over Cas.

Dean had been too slow to react and he isn’t certain he’ll ever forgive himself for allowing his father to bring Cas harm.

Then, Lilith had done the same. He’s sure of it even if Cas refuses to admit to her threats.

Dean’s negligence is unforgivable.

Armband or no, Cas is his responsibility and Dean berates himself for not doing better.

He swallows hard and props himself up on his elbows. Cas is a mere lump under the large bear pelt and the sound of his peaceful breathing barely cuts through the silence of the room. A smile graces Dean’s lips as he watches Cas sleep, so close and yet so far away.

At least providing a safe place to sleep is one thing Dean has done _right_.

Dean’s heart aches as he pushes himself from his bed and quickly changes into fresh clothes and goes about getting himself ready for the day. He collects his sword and eyes the flat side of the blade before running his thumb along the edge with a frown.

Too dull and pinpricks of rust along the edge from the humid summer air.

That will never do.

Cas grumbles awake as the sounds of Dean’s morning routine reach his ears and Dean can’t help the faint smile that plays on his lips as he slams his heavy sword flat onto the table to make Cas jolt upright.

Cas narrows his eyes at the sudden source of noise before turning his grumpy glare on Dean.

Dean shrugs and buries his smirk.

Cas is not a morning person.

He has enjoyed the way Cas has come to respond boldly to his gentle teasing. They’ve come to an understanding over the last week and the layer of fear Cas carries with him seems to slough off when they’re alone. Cas’ shy smiles and occasional laughs lift Dean’s spirits and he thinks he could drown in those bottomless blue eyes if Cas would allow him to.

Cas unbundles himself from the bear pelt and climbs to his feet. His hair is wild and he makes no move to tame it as he stretches his arms high over his head with a yawn.

His shapeless robes hide the lithe body that Dean knows is hiding underneath and he can only imagine how Cas’ muscles have filled out now that he’s eating properly. Cas’ body is growing as strong as his will and that makes him all the more beautiful.

Dean’s mouth goes dry at the look of pained bliss on Cas’ face as he leans backward and his spine pops. The tiniest groan escapes Cas’ lips and Dean drops his gaze to the sword in front of him before Cas glares at him for watching.

“Food?” Dean asks, knowing that Cas will understand him.

Cas nods and yawns before shuffling toward the door in search of breakfast.

Dean shakes his head to himself with a soft smile as Cas departs. He really is a terrible slave. Slow, insolent, and usually disobedient.

But Dean wouldn’t want him any other way.

Castiel’s quiet presence and frequent scowls settle something deep inside him that he had thought could never be soothed.

He enjoys Cas’ company.

He only hopes that Cas might come to feel the same.

Dean sets to running the first of his stones over the edge of his blade, carefully straightening the front edge and smoothing down any imperfections. This sword belonged to his true father and Dean treasures the connection despite barely remembering the man.

Samuel returned this blade to Dean only a few years ago, citing the need for a son to carry the blade of his father.

Dean wonders why Samuel gifted him the sword in the first place. If he is to be the Jarl’s heir, would not the blade of a Saxon be an insult rather than a gift?

A constant reminder that Dean will never be a true Norseman.

Dean sighs and continues. There is nothing to be gained by hiding his heritage in shame. He was chosen as heir and his village accepts him.

That is enough.

Castiel returns with a heavy tray before Dean is finished with his sword and his blue eyes fixate on the gleaming blade as he sets their breakfast on the table.

Dean’s breath catches when Cas steps close, still studying the sword without sparing Dean a glance. Rarely does Cas bless him with this kind of proximity so easily and Dean intends to appreciate the moment.

Cas reaches out to brush a finger along the blade and Dean’s hand darts forward to catch his wrist before either man is aware of the motion. Cas freezes in Dean’s grip and turns his startled blue eyes on him.

“Winchester,” Cas says softly before looking toward the sword. “John of Winchester,” He says again with a wry smile. “Your father.”

Dean cocks his head, uncertain of Cas’ words but needing him to continue.

“Do you remember, my Prince?” Cas asks with a faint dip of his chin and Dean lets out a harsh groan of frustration when he doesn’t understand what Cas is saying.

“Cas,” Dean says warningly. While grateful for Cas’ calmer mood this morning, he does not appreciate his intentional taunting. Dean’s fingers tighten around the man’s wrist but Cas only pinches a frown as he stares down at Dean.

Cas huffs and shakes his head. “Dean of Winchester, you would have been the rightful King of Wessex and yet you have no idea, do you?” Cas continues and Dean narrows his eyes at the sound of his name attached to Winchester, Wessex, and King.

Dean’s heart stutters when he considers that maybe, somehow, impossibly, Cas knows that Dean was born a Saxon. The scant words that Dean understands imply as much and Dean swallows hard.

Perhaps Cas is implying the Saxon King would have Dean put to death for his betrayal of his birthland.

Dean’s stomach sinks at the thought of Cas’ derision and his appetite flees in the face of the heavily laden tray Cas brought.

Cas rolls his eyes and pulls his hand back. “No matter. You are a barbarian now. Wessex would not want you.”

With those bitterly spoken words, Castiel turns away and seats himself in his usual spot at Dean’s table.

Dean cannot help but watch with a heavy heart as Cas picks at the food in front of him with a morose frown.

In a fit of frustration, Dean pushes his chair back, the wooden legs screeching as they drag across the floor as he pushes to his feet. He hurriedly tucks his sword away, intent on returning to it later, and bids Cas a sharp farewell.

Startled blue eyes stare at him as he hastens to leave, but Dean has far too many duties to attend to. He cannot afford to sit here all day and listen to words that make no sense.

Once he’s outside, he takes a deep breath of fresh air, intent on cleansing himself of the morning’s frustrations.

The sight of his brother ducking into the shadows with Ruby does his temper no favors.

Dean’s eyes narrow as he watches the woman rest her hand on Sam’s arm as if she has any right to touch him and it takes all of his willpower not to storm over there and rip her away from his brother.

Sam laughs at something the raven-haired woman says and Dean watches as she walks away with a smile.

Dean’s feet are carrying him across the open space before his mind is consulted on the matter and Sam’s expression clouds over when he sees Dean coming.

“Sam!” Dean calls when he notices Sam starting to turn away and his brother’s shoulders slump as he turns back.

“I don’t want to hear it, Dean. Ruby is a good person.” Sam folds his arms over his chest and looks down at Dean with a challenge in his hazel eyes.

Dean shakes his head. “I don’t buy it. Something is _wrong _with her, Sam,” Dean says with a glare in the direction Ruby wandered in. “I don’t trust her.”

Sam arches a brow. “I’m not a child, Dean. I don’t need your approval.”

Sam’s words cut deep into Dean’s heart. He saved Sam’s life all those years ago, he saved both their lives. But Sam doesn’t remember any of that. Dean has spent his entire life protecting Sam and ensuring that he has a good life.

Sam doesn’t need him anymore.

“Fine,” Dean says with a harsh scowl. “Make your own mistakes.”

He turns and storms away before Sam has a chance to respond, but Dean doubts Sam would have anything useful to say anyway.

Sam isn’t nearly bothered enough by the connections between Lilith and Azazel, and his affections for Ruby have blinded him to the fact that she and Lilith are sisters.

No good can come of her.

Benny has reported whispers of discontent, surely sown by Asmodeus in his never-ending attempt to disgrace Samuel and challenge Dean has his heir. Cas was attacked by Lilith, Dean is certain, but the fool refused to implicate her in a way that Dean could punish.

He growls his frustrations lowly as dust kicks up around him. The sparse crowd parts around him, none willing to intrude upon his brooding but that doesn’t stop their hushed whispers from reaching his ears.

“Dean!” Sam’s voice finally calls out behind him but Dean steadfastly ignores his brother. He has work to do.

Dean’s relief that Sam doesn’t follow him is tinged with irritation. This morning has been doomed to end with anger since he pried himself from his bed.

“Benny, please tell me you have good news,” Dean says as he approaches his oldest friend.

Benny nods and stares off into the distance without turning to face Dean. “Training has been going well. Although, I did catch two of the Christians fighting with each other. One seemed terribly angry, but he refused to tell me why.”

Dean frowns. The monks have always seemed close-knit and kind toward one another. “Who started the fight?” Dean asks with a raised brow.

Benny frowns. “One of the ones assigned to build ships. Balthazar.”

Dean scowls.

Of course, the troublemaker has to be Balthazar.

“I know, brother. Why him, right?” Benny says with a huff of laughter.

“Who was he fighting with?” Dean wonders aloud.

“Virgil,” Benny says the name as if the word leaves a foul taste in his mouth.

Dean’s nose wrinkles and he shakes his head. Speaking with Virgil would be pointless. The man refuses to learn their language and always carries a cloud of bitter anger wherever he goes. “Is Balthazar down by the shore?” Dean asks, resigning himself to his fate of having to speak with the man.

Disorder cannot be tolerated.

“Should be,” Benny says simply, eyes still scanning the handful of men and women who are sparring in the open space near the field. “How’s your boy?”

Dean huffs. “Cas?” Dean questions despite knowing Benny can be referring to no other.

Benny nods and Dean lets out a heavy sigh before shaking his head.

“I’m trying, Benny,” Dean says.

Benny turns and claps a heavy hand on Dean’s shoulder. “He’ll come around.”

Dean hopes that Benny is right, although he admits with growing certainty that Cas will never look upon Dean with that same interest as Dean has in him.

“I’ll be back in a bit,” Dean says as he turns. He needs to deal with Balthazar before Samuel catches word of any insolence among the slaves.

The fine hairs on the back of his neck prickle as Dean traverses the open space between buildings once again, catching the barest glimpse of Azazel disappearing behind Ruby’s family home.

Sam is long gone from where Dean last saw him, but Dean still scans the area with a wary eye.

He catches sight of Cas in the field alongside two of his brothers. Inias and Gadreel are gesturing to one another, but Cas seems distracted by something in the distance.

Dean follows the monk’s line of sight but finds nothing. Whatever has the frown pinched on Cas’ features has already passed.

Inias gently rests his hand on Cas’ arm to gain his friend’s attention and Dean’s eyes narrow possessively until Inias waves in Dean’s general direction.

Cas’ eyes dart to Dean and widen perceptibly before he turns his head to whisper in Gadreel’s ear.

Dean can’t help but wonder what they’re saying to one another, but he doesn’t have the heart to investigate. Not after everything else this morning.

Gadreel turns his head toward Dean with surprise written across his features and the very corners of Cas’ lips curl into a smile as he meets Dean’s gaze.

Dean feels his cheeks heat and he ducks his chin. They’re talking about him and there is nothing he can do to stop them short of banning Cas from having contact with his brothers.

He huffs to himself when he considers interfering. He saw how well that worked last time.

No. Whatever the problem is, Dean is going to have to discuss it with Cas.

He glances back up to see Cas still staring with that soft smile playing on his lips and Gadreel and Inias embroiled in deep conversation, not paying him any attention. Dean allows himself to return Cas’ smile and give the monk a curt nod only to see Cas’ smile grow.

And damn if that doesn’t buoy his spirits.

Maybe this morning’s tension was a simple misunderstanding.

He sucks in a breath and forces himself to turn away to continue on his path.

“Balthazar!” Dean barks as he scans the beach for the monk. Balthazar was the first of the Christians to abandon his robes in favor of the Viking way of dress. He’s even been letting his hair grow out.

Balthazar’s head pops up from the side of a ship he’s fitting a plank to and his features twist in confusion when he sees Dean glaring in his direction.

“Come,” Dean orders and the blond-haired man frowns as he pushes to his feet.

“If this about the words I exchanged with Virgil…” Balthazar starts to say in stilted Norse but Dean silences him with a raised hand.

“That is exactly what this is about. Explain yourself,” Dean says, eyes narrowed as he studies the man approaching him.

“Look, Dean.” Balthazar pauses and Dean gives a curt nod. “Cassie said I could trust you, and I’ve never known my brother to lie.” Balthazar’s gaze grows unusually serious as he regards Dean carefully.

“Go on,” Dean says simply as if Balthazar’s admission does have heart pattering with surprise.

Balthazar lets out a heavy breath and shakes his head. “Perhaps we can speak somewhere private?” He asks as he scans their surroundings carefully.

Now, Dean’s interest is piqued. “Come,” He says lightly, gesturing for the man to follow him.

He leads them into the forge where their smith does his work and gives the man a gentle order to clear out.

“What?” Dean asks, folding his arms over his chest as soon as he and Balthazar are left alone. The heat from the fire is stifling and the air thick, he does not want to be here longer than he must.

“Look, we all know that Cassie was hurt by Azazel’s brother. I have my suspicions about what happened but Cas won’t talk about it. We protect our own, you understand?” Balthazar frowns as he regards Dean carefully.

Dean nods. “I regret what happened to Cas.”

Balthazar nods. “We know. Why else would you be so damn possessive of him? You care for him, don’t you?”

Dean nods, feeling more exposed than he would like but he will not ashamed to admit that Cas has come to mean something more to him. “What does this have to do with Virgil?”

“Azazel is still a threat to our dear Cassie, as is his father. Correct?” Balthazar asks and Dean is beginning to feel a sense of unease crawling over his skin.

Dean gives a curt nod for Balthazar to continue.

The man lets out a heavy breath and shakes his head sadly. “I have seen Virgil and Metatron talking with Azazel and Asmodeus. When Virgil approached me last night, he said that I should ‘choose the winning side’.”

Dean pinches a frown. “What does that mean?”

Balthazar shrugs. “I didn’t listen long enough to find out. He seemed to imply that you’re hurting Cas and he would be safer without you. Now, Cassie had told me that you were trustworthy. He wouldn’t have done that if you were hurting him.” Balthazar narrows his eyes in judgment. “It sounded too much like they were trying to get him alone.”

Dean’s brow furrows as he sifts through Balthazar’s words. As far he knows, the monks know little of the politics of Laugar. He can only assume that Balthazar is being truthful. “Keep this between us and keep your eyes open. I want to know if you see Virgil speaking with Azazel or Asmodeus. If they approach you again, try and get more information.”

Balthazar nods his agreement.

“Thank you for bringing this matter to my attention, Balthazar. I will see to it that you are rewarded.” Dean gives a respectful nod and turns to leave.

“All I ask is that you don’t prove Cassie wrong,” Balthazar says as Dean pulls open the door to let them outside.

“I don’t intend to.” Dean steps through the door, followed closely by Balthazar.

The monk returns to his work a pointed nod, leaving Dean to stand alone wondering what his uncle is scheming.

He needs to speak with Benny and Sam.

\---

When the sun finally begins to set on the day, Dean spots Cas on his knees with his hands buried in the loose soil of the large garden belonging to his family. The Christian monks have been quite helpful when it comes to tending the dusty patch of earth, offering advice on amending the soil to benefit the plants they grow.

Samuel had dismissed their knowledge out of hand and has been scowling at their work since they began. Sam had seen the benefit and Dean was eager to give Cas a chance to prove himself.

The soft smile his monk wears as he mounds the earth around a small bean plant has Dean’s heart twisting comfortably. He decides to leave Cas to it for a while longer and join Benny on the training field instead.

A day spent gathering information has left Dean on edge and his energy strains at the seams with the intense desire to feel the vibrations of one sword striking another. He needs this.

His lips curl into a faint smile at the thought of his monk wielding a sword rather than a wooden paddle or flaming lantern. He thinks Cas would make a good student, his iron will and determination is well suited for a warrior.

Dean could teach him himself.

Perhaps he will speak of it with Cas over dinner tonight.

“Benny!” Dean calls as he breaks into a jog to catch up with his friend.

Benny gives him an easy smile. “Hey, brother,” Benny says easily when Dean is close enough to hear.

“I was hoping you’d have time to spar with me,” Dean says as he comes to a halt.

“Anything for you,” Benny says sweetly and Dean rolls his eyes. “I got some extra energy to burn off too, after what we talked about earlier an all.”

“Yeah.” Dean shakes his head as he and Benny turn toward the house Benny shares with his family. “Andrea doing alright?”

“She’s well, considering. I reckon she’s only got a few weeks left before I have a son,” Benny says with a broad smile.

“You sound certain it’ll be a boy,” Dean arches his brow doubtfully. He hopes Benny has a son but being set on one or the other before the child is born is rarely a wise idea.

The gods often have different ideas.

Benny shrugs. “I can hope. But you know me, a little girl’ll just have me wrapped around her little finger too. She’d be a fighter, just like her mother.”

Dean nods his satisfaction with Benny’s answer. Any child of Benny’s will surely be a strong warrior. Andrea herself is quite accomplished on the battlefield, but she was glad to give up that life when she learned she was with child.

“The seer says we’ll have a boy, you know,” Benny says, looking at Dean pointedly.

Dean huffs a laugh. “That’s good news, my friend,” He says with a smile.

“Alright, here we go,” Benny says as he tosses Dean a hefty wooden sword.

They meander back to the open field that serves as their practice arena and square their stances against one another.

Dean lunges first, making firm contact with the side of Benny’s leg as Benny circles back to swing downward at Dean’s shoulder.

Dean blocks the blow easily and hits Benny once more along the ribs.

Benny cries out in pained surprise and quickly rains down blows along Dean’s side.

Dean’s blocks are mostly successful, but more than one of Benny’s hits makes contact with a dull thunk and delicious pain blooms across his ribs.

Dean grunts as he rolls, determined to get behind Benny, but the man is too quick.

Benny swings and misses. His body twists in a way that leaves his flank open but he feints to the left and circles back before Dean has a chance to strike.

Dean leans his weight onto his left foot, held slightly behind him and he lunges forward, aiming for Benny’s hip.

Benny ducks with a snarl and spins away. “You got early hits, but we’ll see who wins,” Benny says through gritted teeth and Dean laughs.

“Shouldn’t talk when you’re tryin to fight,” Dean says tauntingly as he swings at Benny’s legs. He fails to land more than a glancing blow and Benny quickly steps back.

A flash of blue catches Dean’s eye just as Benny lunges. Dean isn’t quick enough and the distraction costs him his footing.

Benny’s wooden sword smacks him firmly in the ribs and Dean can’t hide his pained cry as his legs buckle.

“Dean!” Cas cries out as Dean falls onto his back.

Benny laughs and steps aside just as Cas skids to Dean’s side and glares haughtily at Benny. “You hurt Dean,” Cas says with a scowl and Benny laughs that much harder.

“Looks like somebody’s worried, brother,” Benny says as he laughs and Dean can’t help the smile that forms through his grimace as his hand prods his ribs.

Cas falls to his knees next to Dean with wide and worried eyes. “Dean hurt,” Cas says softly, his gentle hands prodding at Dean’s side.

“Gee, Cas. I didn’t think you cared,” Dean says, his words barely more than a wheeze as he catches his breath. “It’s your fault you know. Too damn distracting,” Dean mutters and Cas tilts his head in confusion.

Cas finally pauses in his assessment and simply stares as he struggles to catch his breath. Dean watches the way the muscles of Cas’ throat flex and his chest heaves as his wide eyes slowly narrow into a slight glare. “Dean okay?” Cas asks softly and Dean nods.

“I’m okay,” Dean says as he reaches and lightly runs his hand up Cas’ arm. “Not for nothing, Cas, but the last time someone looked at me like that, I got laid,” Dean says jokingly with a smile and he’s pleased to see the confused little furrow form in Cas’ brow.

Cas leans back, out of Dean’s space and pushes to his feet. His cheeks flush crimson and he runs a hand over his face. Only then does he seem to realize that he snapped at Benny and he turns to the man with worry etched clearly in his features.

“No worries, man. Not gonna fault you for carin about that idiot,” Benny says to Cas as he gestures at Dean and Cas’ confusion only grows. Benny gives the man a smile and a nod to try to convey that he isn’t angry and Cas visibly releases some of the tension in his shoulders.

Not for the first time, Dean thinks he needs to make sure Cas is properly taught their language. The monk has picked up a surprising amount in the few weeks he’s been among them, but he still has so much to learn and Dean hates seeing his confusion turn to frustration as it so often does.

Cas huffs and shakes his head as he turns away.

“Cas,” Dean says a little too loudly. He sees Cas freeze but the man doesn’t turn around. “Wait, please,” Dean says, asking rather than ordering.

Cas’ shoulders sag and Dean hopes that the gesture is a sign of relief rather than resignation.

Dean pushes himself back onto his feet, only wincing a little and drawing another laugh from Benny. “Thanks, Benny,” Dean says with a roll his eyes.

Dean quickly steps to Cas side and gently nudges the man. “Hey,” Dean says softly as he rests a hand on Cas’ back with a feather-light touch.

Cas doesn’t pull away but he doesn’t lean into the contact either. Dean still takes Cas’ acceptance of his touch to be a success. “Hungry?” Dean asks, knowing that Cas most likely didn’t bother trying to eat lunch. The salted fish and porridge given to the slaves still don’t agree with Cas’ stomach very well and Dean can’t blame him for avoiding them.

Cas gives a faint nod and rests a dirt-covered hand over his stomach. “Yes. Please,” Cas says softly without turning to meet Dean’s gaze.

Dean nods as moves his hand to lightly grip Cas’ elbow. “See you tomorrow, Benny!” Dean calls over his shoulder as he guides Cas toward the longhouse. “You care about me,” Dean says happily after hearing Benny call out his goodbyes with an amused laugh.

Cas stares straight ahead, not deigning to acknowledge the words that Dean _knows_ Cas doesn’t understand.

“Good, Cas. Thank you,” Dean finally says, using words Cas knows instead of teasing the man with words to purposefully confuse him. Dean wants him to learn, but he can’t help but enjoy being able to say things aloud that would embarrass him if Cas understood.

Cas sucks in a breath and clenches his jaw. Dean has the clear feeling that Cas acted without thought when he came running over, much like he had when he ran into Dean’s arms.

Dean knows Cas was watching them spar but that isn’t unusual. What is new is that Cas was the reason Dean got distracted enough to be knocked on his ass and he can’t help but wonder what thoughts flitted through Cas’ mind.

He can’t help but wonder if Cas is beginning to care for him or if he only sees Dean as someone to be tolerated for the protection he offers.

Dean chases away those dark thoughts as they walk and he narrowly resists the urge to tighten his hold on Cas’ arm. Instead, he lets his hand fall to his side and away from Castiel.

Dean notices the sideways glance Cas gives him when Dean drops his hand, but the monk doesn’t give any other indication of missing the touch or being glad it’s gone. He simply keeps walking.

“Go to my room, I will get food,” Dean says once they’re inside. He has an idea and he hopes Cas will partake.

“Yes, Dean,” Cas says softly as he turns down the hall that will take him to Dean’s room.

Dean nods and swallows thickly as he turns down the opposite hall toward the kitchens. He had been expected to take supper with Samuel this evening, but his duties kept him away and Dean prefers Cas’ company anyway. He only hopes he doesn’t run into his adoptive father on the way to the kitchens.

Dean makes the trip as quickly as possible and grabs a hearty jug of mead on the way back.

By the time he pushes through the door to his chamber, Cas has already washed the dirt from his hands and prepared a fresh bowl of water for Dean to wash as well. Dean smiles and voices his thanks as he sets the tray of meat and bread down as Cas eyes the jug of mead curiously.

“Mead,” Dean says as he gestures toward the jug but the furrow of Cas’ brow only deepens.

Dean washes his hands and face before gathering two cups and filling them with the sweet honey wine as Cas empties the bowl. “This is mead,” Dean says as he hands a cup to Cas once he returns.

Cas sniffs the beverage curiously and wrinkles his nose.

“Alcohol,” Dean says by way of explanation as he takes a deep drink of his and lets out a sigh of pleasure.

“Mead,” Cas says, tasting the vaguely familiar word. Dean is sure Cas has an inkling of what Mead is, but he knows the monk has never been offered the drink.

Slaves are not permitted the luxury.

Dean watches with rapt attention as Cas presses the cup to his lips to take a sip of the strong drink and he fights a laugh when Cas sputters as he tries to swallow.

“Mead?” Cas says as a question, glaring at his cup as he coughs.

“Strong,” Dean says with a smile. “This mead is strong,” Dean repeats in a sentence, trying his best to help Cas learn.

“Strong…alcohol?” Cas says cautiously, clearly uncertain. He takes a tiny sip and shrugs.

Dean smiles. “Yes,” He says cheerfully before he takes a bite of meat from the platter. “Strong alcohol,” He says through the food in his mouth and he barely contains his laugh when Cas inevitably scowls.

Cas takes another sip of the mead and reaches for a hunk of bread. He then shreds some squab from the bone and tucks it inside the bread before taking a hearty bite. He smiles at Dean around his mouthful and Dean’s heart flutters wildly.

Cas drinks his mead happily but doesn’t ask for more when his cup runs dry. He doesn’t need to. Dean is quick to offer and Cas doesn’t tell him no.

They eat and drink well into the night. Cas’ smiles come easier and the space between them grows smaller while Dean does his best to teach Cas various words. He identifies items in the room and the light in Cas’ eyes grows with each new word learned.

Dean cannot understand why he didn’t decide to simply sit and spend time with Cas sooner. He’s been a fool. A complete and utter fool.

Dean’s heart feels full as he pours the last of the mead evenly between their cups. His cheeks are flushed and his mind feels pleasantly fuzzy. Cas’ bright blue eyes are captivating Dean feels as if he could lose himself in the man’s gaze and not regret a moment of his demise.

Cas giggles at seemingly nothing and sways in his seat with a gummy smile. The sound is divine to his ears, but Dean belatedly realizes he probably should have cut Cas off sooner.

Dean watches Cas with a fondness that borders on painful. His heart clenches and his stomach is alight with a fluttering swarm of butterflies but Cas seems oblivious to Dean’s plight.

When Cas goes to take another sip and finds his mug to be empty, his bottom lip juts out in a pout and his brows furrow in annoyance.

He is quite possibly the most adorable thing Dean has ever seen and he cannot stop the delighted laugh he lets out as his head tilts back with the force of his happiness.

When he straightens his chin and meets Cas’ eyes, the monk is looking at Dean with widened eyes and parted lips. Dean’s breath catches in his throat as he stares. The moment seems to stretch for ages as they stare at one another with nothing but the flickering candlelight to illuminate their faces.

Without thinking, Dean reaches out a hand to cup Cas’ cheek and the man freezes. His skin is hot under Dean’s palm as they stare at one another and Dean contemplates drawing nearer to the other man before an emotion flits across Cas’ features that has Dean pulling back instinctively with a throat-clearing cough.

Dean feels his cheeks heat and he looks down to avoid the trepidation written across Cas’ features. “Apologies, Cas. I didn’t mean to…I wouldn’t…” Dean stammers but he falls silent when he feels a hand settle on his shoulder.

“I forgive you,” Cas says in his native tongue, but Dean doesn’t understand the words and Cas huffs as he shakes his head. “Ok. Dean Ok.”

Dean’s heart skips a beat at Cas’ tone. His voice holds no heat and sounds almost gentle as if he isn’t angry that Dean very nearly violated his budding trust.

Dean is glad for the soft way Cas is staring at him, but he still feels a not so small amount of self-loathing brewing deep in his gut.

“Sleep, Cas,” Dean forces himself to say as he gestures toward the pile of furs in front of his fireplace that has become Cas’ bed.

Dean would much prefer for Cas to share the wide expanse of his well-stuffed mattress, but he doesn’t know how to offer without Cas thinking the worst of him. In truth, even if Cas could understand the words, Dean wouldn’t be able to promise that he wouldn’t wrap himself around Cas in the middle of the night as if he were one of Aegir’s sea monsters.

Cas nods and looks to his nest with an expression that Dean can’t quite read. If Dean let his imagination run wild, he might this the look clouding Cas’ features is akin to disappointment but he doesn’t trust himself to hope.

He stands too much to lose if he makes a mistake.

Cas set his cup aside and nods. “Sleep,” He says, tone determined but laced with a hint of something Dean would love to label as discontent if he were bold enough 

“Good sleep, Dean,” Cas says with a slight slur to his words and Dean can’t help the amused smile that blossoms across his features.

“Goodnight, Cas. Goodnight,” He says, infusing his tone with as much warmth as he dares.

Cas gives him another discreet smile and a nod. “Goodnight, Dean,” He says again as he burrows into his bed of furs and blankets.

Dean lets out a pleased huff and blows out the candles lighting the room. “Goodnight, Cas,” Dean says one more time as he climbs into his bed.

His answer comes only in the forms of breathy snores and he lets out as a deep sigh as he forces his eyes closed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I would love to hear from you either here or on twitter. My handle is @grimmlin_fic


	11. Giving

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Tuesday! I hope you enjoy this week's progress.

“Cas! Cas!” Dean’s voice calls to him but Cas can’t find the man through the darkness surrounding him. Cas opens his mouth to scream but words fail to escape as his assailant throws him to the ground.

He struggles to escape the strong arms that hold him down and press him pressed to his knees as heavy hands pull at his robes.

He needs to find Dean.

Dean will help him.

Dean will keep him safe.

“NO!” Cas cries out and thrashes against the iron grip holding him. “Dean!”

“Cas, wake up!” Dean’s voice comes again and Cas feels himself being shaken. Suddenly he’s on his back and Cas struggles and whimpers against the hands holding him there. “Wake up!” Dean’s voice shouts, closer than before.

Cas feels a flutter of hope as he suddenly breaks free from his tormentor and his eyes fly open as his fingers curl around the knife in his pocket. He swings his hand wildly and doesn’t care about the stunned gasp that comes as the edge of the blade catches on something soft.

Tears streak down his cheeks and he struggles to breathe as he sits up quickly, frantically fighting against the hands that tighten around his shoulder and wrist.

His fingers cramp around the horn handle of the knife and his lungs burn with each heaving breath as Dean’s fingers dig painfully in his wrist.

Dean.

The knife falls to the floor with a clatter as his vision clears enough to take in familiar surroundings.

“Cas!” Dean almost yells as he gives Cas a violent shake. “You are safe,” Dean urges as Cas finally stills and he meets Dean’s gaze with wide and terrified eyes. Blood seeps from Dean’s cheek in a graceful line just below his eye and Cas’ heart lodges in his throat.

“Dean. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” A new kind of terror consumes him as Dean releases him and reaches for the dagger with an unreadable expression.

Cas clamps his mouth shut against the sobs threatening to overtake him and breathes heavily through his nose.

Dreaming.

He was dreaming and he hurt Dean.

His heart aches and his stomach twists as he stares at the fine line of crimson coloring Dean’s cheek. He’s made a terrible mistake.

Dean quickly withdraws with the knife and takes several steps back, eyeing Cas warily. “Are you okay?” Dean says. His gaze is softer than Castiel deserves, and he doesn’t quite know what to do with that.

Dean almost sounds afraid.

Cas gives his head a quick shake and draws his knees to his chest as fine tremors wrack his body.

Dean shouldn’t be asking him if he’s okay.

Dean should be angry, but when Cas risks a glance he finds nothing but worry etched in those green eyes.

“Cas...” Dean says softly as he steps closer with a hand outstretched. “Where did you get this?” Dean holds up the knife and stares, ignoring the cut on his cheek and the slowly pooling blood threatening to drip from his chin.

Cas tenses and flinches away. A fine tremor of irritation is laced within Dean’s tone and Cas coils himself smaller in his shame. “I’m sorry,” He whimpers and Cas is less than proud of his frightened tone and the way Dean’s expression falls. “I didn’t mean to, I didn’t…” Cas begins to babble but he doesn’t know the right words for Dean to understand and he nearly chokes around his frustration.

Dean’s hand falls and his shoulders sag as his gaze drops to the floor.

“Dean, I’m sorry...” Cas hurries to say. He should have given him the knife the day Lilith threatened him but he was too much of a coward. “Please, let me help,” Cas mutters, already turning toward the fireplace to gather a bowl of clean water from the larger pitcher.

Dean gives him a sad smile and shakes his head before turning away to climb back into his bed. “I’m fine, Cas. Sleep.”

Cas’ heart is slow to calm as he forces himself to lay down and stare at the darkened ceiling above him. Dean is silent on his bed, a sure sign to Cas that the man has not fallen asleep.

The sad expression that fell over Dean’s features when he pulled away cuts through Cas’ gut painfully. Guilt swells in his stomach when he considers what his cowardness has accomplished.

If he had swung a little higher, or a little harder, he could have done serious harm.

He swallows hard and clenches his eyes closed. A month ago, he would have been filled with regret that he had only made a scratch.

Now, his stomach threatens to force him to revisit his dinner with the horrifying thought of hurting Dean.

When did Dean’s come to mean something to Castiel?

He shouldn’t. Cas shouldn’t care. Dean is little more than a means to an end. Protection against the brutish Vikings he’s found himself surrounded by.

A way to escape.

But he cannot lie to himself and say that the sound of his full name now fills him with a disquieting unease. The way Dean speaks to him, the way Dean says the shortened version of his name, sends butterflies quivering deep in his gut.

Dean’s easy smiles and concern filled gaze give Castiel something to look forward to each day and each night. After toiling in the fields and helping cook the meals for the household, when Castiel is sore and exhausted, the sight of Dean coming to collect him fills his stomach with something warm that he can’t quite describe.

With each passing day, Dean appears to be less of the monster who stole Cas from his home, and more of a good man.

More of a friend.

And Cas _hurt_ him.

Cas lets out a heavy sigh and wiggles himself deeper into the pile of furs.

“Dean?” Cas says quietly into the darkness, voice barely more than a whisper. His words are met with silence but Cas does not doubt that Dean is listening. He lets out a heavy breath and forces himself to continue, to tell Dean the truth in the safety of darkness. “Lilith gave me the knife, when she called me your whore.”

There. The truth that Dean has been wanting for weeks has been said.

He only hopes that Dean will forgive him.

\---

Dean clenches his eyes when Cas whispers into the dark.

Lilith.

She gave Cas the knife, but why? She hates Cas.

Arming him makes no sense.

Unless...

Dean swallows hard as he considers.

She hates him more. At the time, Cas hated him too.

His breath freezes in his lungs and his blood runs cold as the pieces click together.

She wanted Cas to attack him.

He rolls over and reaches for the knife, feeling the finely carved bone handle with his fingertips in the dark. The blade is sharp, only a few inches long but still plenty large to take a life.

Cas could have murdered Dean in his sleep at any point.

He wouldn’t. Dean is sure of it.

Lilith underestimates the feisty monk.

It seems that he has as well.

Dean cannot pretend that the blind terror of the monk’s dream doesn’t affect him. The pained way he was crying Dean’s name and struggling to escape… he feels Cas’ terror like a personal affront.

The thought that Cas still fears him fills him with unbearable resentment and guilt.

He did this.

Every hurt that Cas has endured since he first laid eyes on the monk in the forest is entirely Dean’s fault.

Samuel claims that Dean is too soft, that he needs to harden his heart if he is to lead one day, and Dean is apt to believe him.

Since Cas first appeared in his path, Dean has been a fool.

Dean passes the remainder of the night in tense silence and all but flees from the room at the first sounds of morning. Cas is asleep, features crumpled into a pout of a frown and his nose twitches as he dreams.

Dean cannot bring himself to wake the man, so he leaves behind a plate of food and closes the door quietly behind him with Lilith’s dagger tucked into his belt.

Most of the village still slumbers despite the rooster’s call and Dean doesn’t mind the deserted space. He wanders toward the water and crouches along the shore to dip his fingers into the crisp surf.

The path of his life was as clear as the water at his feet until he nearly shot Castiel with his arrow.

Since that moment, everything has changed and his muddied emotions will only bring him trouble.

“Dean, imagine finding you out of your chambers at this hour. Is your monk not servicing you well?” A deeply accented and snide tone comes from behind him and Dean immediately tenses hand drifting to the knife at his belt.

Dean pushes out of his crouch with a clenched jaw and his gaze grows hard as he turns around to glare at his uncle. “Asmodeus,” Dean says, forcing himself to smile.

“I hate to see my dear nephew suffering. Perhaps I could offer you one of my slaves? Virgil is quite the catch; he screams so nicely.” Asmodeus continues and Dean feels his heart seize as his vision reddens.

“I have no interest in such cruelties,” Dean says with a biting tone. His stomach lurches and he immediately regrets the meager breakfast he forced himself to eat.

Asmodeus laughs dramatically at Dean’s reaction. “So typical. You are too much like your mother. She was too soft to be one of us. It was for the best that she fled and never returned.”

Dean snarls and his eyes narrow into a glare. “What is that supposed to mean?” Dean knows little of his mother, the scant memories he holds of her are so tarnished by time that he isn’t certain any truth remains in them.

Samuel never speaks of her or who she was to him.

“Just that your _father_ should have left well enough alone. He should have left you and your whelp of a brother to the Britons. You are too weak to be one of us.” Asmodeus says, his tone somehow light and chiding as if Dean were a simpleton.

Dean pinches a frown and shakes his head. “You think you should rule? Were you not so weak that your father passed you over in favor of your younger brother?” Dean takes a step toward his uncle with narrowed eyes. “You and your sons were not worthy of rule. Odin blessed us when he chose to entrust his people to better men.”

Asmodeus laughs but Dean can see that a nerve has been struck. Good.

“Your words are brash, Dean. I only hope your pretty little monk doesn’t suffer for them,” Asmodeus says, tone seething, and Dean’s hands clench at his sides.

The threat to Cas has Dean’s heart pounding and his vision going dark.

“Cas will suffer at no man’s hand.” Dean takes a step into his uncle’s space with a glare and his tone dripping with venom. He will not take threats lightly, especially not to Cas.

Asmodeus smirks and dips his chin, feigning respect. “Take care, nephew. I am certain our business is not yet finished.”

Dean watches the man leave with a quivering stomach. Dean is not naïve enough to believe Asmodeus capable of idle threats. Dean spent his life protecting his brother and now he must protect Cas as well.

He will die before he lets someone hurt his blue-eyed monk.

“Dean?” Balthazar says as he peeks out from behind a boat.

Dean startles as he turns, swallowing hard when his gaze lands on the monk. “Balthazar. I did not know you were there.”

Balthazar nods and steps out from his shelter. “I started early this morning. I saw you by the water and intended to speak with you, until...” He casts a furtive glance in the direction Asmodeus went.

“Did you know he has been hurting Virgil?” Dean asks and swallows hard around the lump in his throat.

Balthazar shakes his head. “I did not realize what had provoked such a change in my brother. He refuses to speak to us.”

“I swear, I will see him removed from Asmodeus’ reach.” Dean hastens to promise.

Balthazar nods. “What I had meant to tell you is that I overheard Lilith and Azazel speaking.” Balthazar casts his eyes down and toys with his fingers.

Dean swallows hard and steps forward. “Go on,” He says, urging Balthazar to continue his thought.

“Azazel seemed angry with her for failing to, and I quote, “turn him”,” Balthazar says, gesturing with his fingers.

“Who?” Dean questions.

Balthazar lets out a mirthless laugh. “Castiel, I think.” He gestures toward Dean before glancing around for eavesdroppers. “She claimed that you are the problem. That your attentions are too fixated on the “pathetic little monk”, that you’ve fooled him into becoming loyal to you.”

Dean sucks in a breath and quickly shakes his head. “Cas is not pathetic,” he says vehemently.

Balthazar rolls his eyes and places his hands on his hips. “Of all I said, _that_ is your takeaway? I’m glad you’re fond my little brother, but it’s a good thing you’re pretty,” he says as he shakes his head.

Dean scoffs and rolls his eyes. “I don’t know what women see in you.”

Balthazar snickers and reaches out to nudge Dean’s shoulder. “Not just women,” He says with a wink. “Seriously though, keep an eye on him. I worry about my dear little brother. He seems to like you.” With that, Balthazar turns to walk away, leaving Dean alone on the beach with an unsettled feeling deep in his gut.

He needs to speak with his brother about convincing Samuel to take possession of Virgil, then he needs to find Cas.

\---

Cas chews his lower lip as he stares at Dean’s empty bed and he makes his decision. He quickly assembles the bedclothes and orders everything carefully before giving a broken smile to the small plate of bread and meat sitting on Dean’s table.

Cas has no doubt Dean left the food for him and his chest twinges with bittersweet gratitude.

After last night, he’s surprised that Dean bothered.

He eats quickly, barely tasting the food but swallowing it down regardless before rushing out the door toward the barn to gather his tools.

He’s late and the other slaves are not shy about giving him dirty looks and grumbling their annoyance as he takes his place amongst them.

Cas narrows his eyes and scowls at them. “Dean kept me longer…” He tries to excuse but he is harshly interrupted.

“You lie!” Lilith scowls, ripping the crudely made shovel from Castiel’s hand and tossing it to the ground. “Dean has been out of his room for hours now and you come to us this late? No. You lie,” She spits, crowding into Castiel’s space rudely. She gives Cas a shove and he stumbles back, eyes wide and heart pounding. “Lazy Christian.”

He doesn’t understand all of her biting words, but he knows enough to understand that he is being accused of dishonesty. “I do not lie,” Cas says with a glare.

He is so tired of not understanding or being able to speak to these people! And this woman no less, she is a traitor to Dean and his family. She is Castiel’s enemy. He crowds closer to her, hands fisted at his sides as his pulse pounds in his ears.

“Should I tell Dean what you say? Will you call him liar?!” Cas continues his tirade. He almost doesn’t care that his words are likely incorrect. She should still understand.

“What is going on here?!” Dean barks from across the field and Cas immediately steps away from Lilith. Dean strides angrily toward them, glaring daggers at the female slave.

Cas risks a glance around, noting several sets of eyes on them and his mouth suddenly goes dry. Causing a scene will not help him. Not at all.

Not when Dean has every reason to be upset with him.

“What is the problem here, Lilith?” Dean says lowly, tone nearly a growl as he comes to a halt between the two slaves.

“He was late and tried to say you were to blame. We all know he lies,” Lilith sneers, her blue eyes narrow and her nose wrinkles in disgust as she glares at Castiel.

Dean huffs and shakes his head as he reaches for Lilith and fists the front of her tunic. Cas catches the barest glint of a knife in Dean’s hand, pressed to Lilith’s ribs as he leans close.

“Dean, I... I’m sorry,” Cas offers, stepping forward just enough to enter Dean’s line of sight.

“No, Cas,” Dean stops him with harshly spoken words. “Cas does not lie. He had duties to perform this morning that are far more important than toiling in the dirt with _you,_” Dean bites toward Lilith, tone dripping with disdain as he presses the knife threateningly against her ribs.

Cas shudders where he stands, catching sight of the fierce warrior who took him prisoner. Dean hardened gaze and sharp jaw are only highlighted made more intimidating by the thin cut high on his cheek. The cut that Cas put there. His heart hammers wildly in his chest as he takes in Dean’s feral expression and his breath comes in short heaves.

“Your insolence is unacceptable,” Dean continues as Lilith’s eyes go wide.

The woman looks terrified. “I am so sorry, my lord. I thought…”

“You clearly did not think. For your false accusations, you may complete Castiel’s duties as well as your own for today,” Dean bites and Cas nearly balks at the sound of his full name. He releases her with a shove and holds up the gleaming knife. “You have my thanks for this lovely little dagger,” Dean says with a smirk before tucking the blade back into his belt as Lilith’s expression darkens.

Cas sucks in a breath and forces himself to stand tall despite wanting to slink back to Dean’s room and hide for the rest of the day.

“Yes, my lord,” Lilith murmurs and ducks her chin with a poorly concealed glare. Her shoulders are still tense and angry, but she is not naïve enough to test Dean further.

“Cas, come,” Dean bites and snags Castiel’s elbow as he turns.

Cas is forced to follow, nearly stumbling as Dean drags him across the field and into his house. “Dean, I’m sorry,” Cas pleads, fearing Dean’s anger has transferred to him.

Dean slams the door behind them and spins Cas to face him. His verdant eyes scan Castiel’s form and he runs his hands up and down Castiel’s arms. “Cas, ok?” Dean finally asks, seemingly satisfied with Castiel’s physical condition.

Cas sucks in a tense breath and nods. “Yes,” He answers as he forces himself to meet Dean’s gaze. From this close, flecks of gold are highlighted in the mossy green of Dean’s eyes and not for the first time, Cas thinks that Dean is beautiful in his own right. “Thank you,” he mutters, ducking his eyes slightly before Dean can catch him admiring the smattering of freckles across the man’s nose and cheeks.

Dean lets out a heavy breath and nods. “Good. Good.”

Cas sniffs and nods, doing his best to choke back his frustration. He isn’t surprised that Lilith gave him a hard time. She’s been horrible to him since Dean first showed him favor and after the incident in the barn, Cas has been waiting for her to harass him again.

What Castiel is surprised by is how readily Dean came to his defense. He hadn’t even realized that Dean was nearby, watching, and Castiel hates that he couldn’t defend himself against the slave woman.

“Cas,” Dean says, voice barely a whisper, as he uses a single finger to lift Castiel’s chin. Cas lets himself be putty in Dean’s hands and he meets Dean’s eyes with a resigned frown. Dean’s lips part as if words are nearly ready to leave his mouth, but he reigns them in at the last moment.

He presses his mouth into a firm line before giving Cas a wry smile and releasing his hold on Cas’ chin. He gives Cas’ shoulder a quick pat before stepping back and Cas swallows hard as he watches Dean’s cheeks flush pink. “Come,” Dean directs gently as he turns to walk toward Sam’s rooms.

“Sam,” Dean calls through the door as he knocks. Cas shifts awkwardly from foot to foot as they wait for the younger man to come to the door.

Cas will gladly stay with Sam and Gabriel for the day. He misses the long hours spent hunched over books, painstakingly copying them word for word.

“Dean? Cas?” Sam cracks open the door and rubs his eyes as he takes in the men on his doorstep.

“Will you translate for me?” Dean asks his brother and Cas watches curiously. He’s come to learn what those words mean. Sam gives a nod and Dean tells him what he wants Cas to know.

“Cas, Dean wants you to stay here until midday and help with my research. Then he would like you to return to his chamber and clean,” Sam says with a frown, glancing between his brother and Cas.

Cas nods and gives Sam a faint smile. These instructions sound much preferable to his normal duties, although he isn’t certain what he is to clean in Dean’s room. The man is surprisingly clean for a bachelor, and Cas has been careful to keep the room tidy since he has been sleeping there as well.

Dean looks to him expectantly, so Cas gives him a nod and careful smile. “Yes, Dean,” He says softly, resisting the urge to thank the man again for stepping between him and Lilith.

“Good,” Dean says with a bright smile as he claps Cas on the shoulder yet again and turns to leave before anything more can be said.

“So, what happened?” Sam asks as he steps aside to let Castiel into his room. Books are strewn across the broad wooden table and Gabriel sits at one end with a too interested look in his eye.

“Uh,” Cas stammers before swallowing hard. “I was late to the field and Lilith took exception.” He carefully leaves out the part where he cut Dean’s cheek with a dagger Lilith had given him.

“Ah, lemme guess. Dean didn’t appreciate her yelling at you?” Sam asks with a knowing twinkle in his eye.

Cas nods with a frown. “He is... protective.”

“Of course he is! He’s in love with you,” Gabriel comments from across the room, leaning back in his chair as he folds his arms over his chest.

“Gabe!” Sam chastises and Cas looks between the two men curiously before letting out a snort of laughter.

“Impossible,” Cas scoffs, shaking his head as he approaches his brother. Gabriel has long since abandoned his Monk’s robe in favor of the Viking way of dress. He claims the lighter and form-fitting fabric is more comfortable, but Castiel refuses to take that step. He doesn’t want to forget where he comes from.

Sam sighs and shakes his head but doesn’t comment, not even when Cas gives him a look that begs for his agreement.

Castiel frowns and Gabriel smirks while Sam shifts uncomfortably on his feet.

“So... Gabe and I were working on translating these texts into Norse,” Sam says in a hurry to break the tense silence that has fallen over them.

Cas nods dumbly, mind still fixating on the idea of Dean truly caring for him.

Gabriel may be brash and too forward, but Castiel has never considered his brother to be dense. He has a cunning way of observing people and deciphering the reasons behind their actions that Cas can never hope to match. Whatever Gabriel has seen in Dean’s eyes must mean something. But could Dean possibly care for him that way? Cas doesn’t think so.

Cas?” Sam questions as he settles at the table and only then does Castiel realize he’s still standing in the middle of the room, staring off into nowhere as his thoughts churn.

“Sorry.” Castiel coughs to clear his throat and bring himself back to the task at hand. “You were saying?” He swallows hard, hoping that the other two men didn’t notice how far his thoughts had drifted. Gabe’s proud smirk tells him that he has no such luck.

“Translating,” Sam repeats and Castiel’s expression falls.

“I... won’t be of much help,” Cas says, disappointment lacing his tone. He can barely speak a few handfuls of Norse, let alone recognize their runes.

Sam laces his fingers together on top of the table and leans forward as Castiel settles into a chair. “True. But I think it’s time you get proper lessons in our language. You’re smart, you’ve picked up more than most of your brothers, but I can see how frustrated you get sometimes.”

“You’ll teach me?” Cas asks, eyes widening as he looks between Sam and Gabriel. Dean has tried and done fairly well considering, but Sam speaks English fluently and Gabriel is quite skilled in Norse. Between the two of them, Castiel’s education will go a lot faster.

“Of course, baby bro,” Gabe says with a smirk.

Castiel scowls at Gabriel’s words but chooses not to comment on his glib behavior. He learned long ago that trying to convince Gabriel to be proper is a lost cause. “Thank you,” Cas says, looking pointedly at Sam.

They spend the remainder of the morning answering Castiel’s questions about the Norse language and practicing common phrases. Sam and Gabe take turns pacing but they never drift far apart in their movements.

More than once Cas catches Sam barely brushing his fingertips over Gabe’s shoulder and Gabriel’s gaze occasionally lingers just a little too long when he looks at Sam.

Cas’ cheeks flush each time the feeling of being an intruder washes over him but he’s glad that Sam and Gabriel seem to have become friends.

Cas’ head is swimming by the time Sam releases him to tend to the chores Dean laid out for him.

As suspected, Dean’s room is nearly pristine and there is little for Castiel to do. Cas seats himself at the edge of Dean’s bed, noting how well cushioned the mattress is and then chastises himself for the spike of jealousy that materializes in his gut. His pile of furs is a pure luxury compared to what he had in the barn.

Even compared to his bed at the Abbey.

He’s grateful for the changes Dean has made and he refuses to let himself be jealous of something he isn’t permitted to have.

Once Dean’s room is as clean and tidy as possible, Castiel does something he hasn’t done in what feels like a lifetime.

He prays.

On his knees with his hands clasped and head bowed, he prays for his soul and Dean’s. He prays for Sam’s safety and thanks the Lord for bringing these two brothers into his life to teach him humility and hardship, and for granting him the strength to survive and adapt.

He lets go of the last of his anger and bitterness for being stolen from his home and the quiet life he had led.

Laugar is his home now, for better or for worse. Dean and Sam are his home. His fate lies with them, and Castiel cannot find it in himself to wish for something different.

He has renewed faith that God has a plan and that he need only play his part.

When he finally rises, Castiel’s soul feels lighter and a small tendril of peace wraps tightly around his heart. He smiles. For no reason at all.

And then, he has an idea.

His idea will take hours to complete, and his heart races as he ventures from Dean’s room to seek out Sam and Gabriel’s help moving the large and broken barrel that had once stored mead and now rots in the barn near where he had slept for weeks.

Under Sam’s watchful eye, Castiel hacks and saws at the wooden thing until the damaged side is cut away and then coats the inside with a thick resin that Gabriel helps him mix from an old Abbey recipe.

By the time the sun begins to sink in the sky, the half barrel is watertight and set up in Dean’s room next to the fire. Cas hurries to bring water and warm it before filling the large basin enough to submerge a person.

Castiel has only ever seen such a contraption in the castle of his youth and he can’t help but wonder if Dean has any lingering memories of that time. Of him.

Cas huffs to himself and shakes his head. Dean has never mentioned anything to make Castiel think he remembers any detail, let alone any blue-eyed little boy just two years older than himself.

Cas has kept that a secret, not knowing how to broach the subject of Dean and Sam’s origins. Sure, he’s told Dean, but not in words he could understand. Now, with Sam and Gabriel’s help, he can learn the Norse words to tell that story.

Cas freezes midway to the nearly full barrel when the door creaks open and Dean steps through.

Dean freezes when he sees Castiel and his eyes narrow at the sight of the large basin. “What are you doing?” Dean questions, tone firm but not angry. Not yet.

Cas forces himself to smile and finish pouring the last steaming bucket of water. “A bath,” He says, using the English word.

“Bath?” Dean parrots, drawing out the word awkwardly.

Cas nods and steels his nerve. He doesn’t think his surprise will go poorly, but Dean’s moods can be tempestuous if pushed too hard. He crosses the room to stand in front of Dean and he reaches for the man’s hand to guide him toward the steaming tub. “Wash,” Cas says when they come to a stop, using the word Dean had taught him in the beginning next to the stream.

Dean remains mute and follows Castiel, likely dumbfounded and confused but Cas isn’t above using that surprise to his advantage.

Cas chews his lip and drops his gaze before reaching up to begin unlacing Dean’s shirt. When Dean makes no move to either help him or stop him, Cas tugs the garment over Dean’s shoulders and Dean allows the motion like a rag doll, still eyeing Castiel with confusion. “Sit, in,” Cas says, keeping his gaze on the barrel and lowering his hand to agitate the surface of the water.

Dean narrows his eyes and reaches out to grip Castiel’s now wet hand. “This is...bath?” Dean says, combining Norse and English words carefully.

Cas freezes at Dean’s touch but nods. “For you.”

Dean sucks in a breath and a type of heat floods his eyes that makes Castiel shiver.

The grip holding Castiel’s hand disappears and Dean redirects his attentions to unlacing his pants.

Cas stands frozen as Dean shucks his pant down and stands bare before him, too close for comfort. Cas hadn’t thought this far ahead and his heart races at the sight of the broad expanse of Dean’s skin only inches from him. “In,” Cas mutters, turning his chin to look away.

“Cas,” Dean says, nudging Cas’ chin with his fingers to guide his gaze back to his. Cas blinks and Dean smiles. “Thank you,” Dean says.

Cas lifts a hand to rest over Dean’s as he struggles not to lean into the touch. Dean’s nudity fills Castiel with confusion instead of his former fear. He needs to leave.

He shouldn’t look and he should give Dean his privacy. Cas swallows hard and nods, still staring into Dean’s eyes, before he finally forces himself to turn away. “I will return when you are done,” Castiel says, forcing his voice to remain even as he repeats the words that Sam had taught him.

Cas can hear the water splash as he ducks out the door and he takes a moment to lean against the smooth surface after he shuts it firmly behind him.

His heart patters in an unfamiliar rhythm that he can’t quite decipher. Instead of nervous fear, an invigorating shock courses through his system that reminds him of the first time he rode a horse as a boy.

The sudden thrill and freedom were intoxicating. He had immediately wanted more and he feels much the same now.

The tenderness in Dean’s gaze and the tingle that ripped through him when he reached out to take Dean’s hand has his mind swimming. Gabriel says Dean loves him. No, is _in_ love with him.

But what does that mean?

Cas hurries to Sam’s room where his brother and the younger Viking wait for him. Sam is kind and understanding and for that, Castiel is grateful. He had watched Castiel carefully as he worked, skeptical but interested as Cas and Gabe carefully sealed the barrel and smoothed down the rough edges.

The concept of a bath was foreign to the man despite the Viking penchant for being clean and Cas can’t help but wonder why that is. Surely the idea of filling a large vessel with heated water isn’t beyond their level of ingenuity.

Cas knocks and Gabriel immediately opens the door to allow him in. Their table is heavily laden with fresh meats, cheese and bread and Sam waves Castiel over.

“Come eat with us,” Sam says with a smile and Cas can’t help but answer Sam with a smile of his own. “How did Dean react to your gift?”

Cas settles across from Sam and reaches for a piece of bread. “He was confused at first,” Cas answers before dipping his chin to hide his growing blush when he remembers how he began undressing Dean.

Where had that boldness come from?

Gabriel snickers and digs into their meal. “I bet Dean-o thinks you’re getting sweet on him.”

Cas groans and drops his head into his hands. “I don’t hate him,” He mutters as if simply not hating the man explains why he went through the trouble of building him a bathing tub. He even kept the bung of the barrel in place to make draining the vessel easier. He went and made more work for himself just to do something to bring Dean pleasure. What is wrong with him?!

Sam chuckles and shakes his head. “I’m glad you and my brother are making peace. I was worried you might try to kill him at first,” Sam says jokingly but both monks can hear the serious undertone of his words.

Cas’ throat constricts and he coughs against his half-swallowed mouthful. If only Sam knew.

“Oh please, Samsquatch. Cassie here is as harmless as a butterfly. He isn’t the one you should have been worried about,” Gabriel’s words begin as lighthearted but quickly grow darker as he fixes the young Viking with a stern look.

Sam clears his throat and swallows hard as he ducks his chin. Castiel can’t help but wonder what had passed between him and Gabriel to achieve such a reaction. They had seemed to come to a quick understanding and then an easy friendship.

Cas narrows his eyes as he glances between the two men with a new question in mind.

Castiel quickly discards that thought and resumes his meal. Some questions are better left unasked.

Cas lingers for as long as he dares. He told Dean he would return, and he has no desire for Dean to come looking for him. Besides, he needs to empty the bathwater.

He takes his leave of Sam and his brother and quietly slinks down the hall to Dean’s room, carefully avoiding anyone who might question him. His heart is racing by the time he reaches Dean’s room and he quickly ducks inside before he even thinks to knock.

He realizes his error the instant he crosses the threshold and Dean pushes to his feet swiftly, wide green eyes trained on Castiel’s every motion. Cas freezes and his heart slows just enough to begin pounding. “Apologies, Dean,” He blurts automatically as he lowers his gaze and backs himself against the closed door.

“Cas,” Dean says, brightly enough to cause Castiel to let out a heavy breath in relief. “Thank you. The bath was amazing. You’re a genius!” Dean says as he quickly closes the space between them.

Cas tenses, not recognizing a good portion of Dean’s words but Dean shows no signs of stopping. Dean takes Castiel’s hand and tugs him forward, pulling him deeper into the chamber.

“Dean, I…” Castiel begins to protest weakly, knowing well enough by now that resistance is futile. He doesn't have the will to fight Dean anymore.

Dean pulls Cas into a crushing hug that leaves the monk sputtering in surprise.

“Dean,” Cas croaks, struggling to breathe through Dean’s tight embrace.

“Thank you, Cas,” Dean says kindly and Cas wants to melt into the friendly embrace.

Maybe Gabriel was right about Dean’s feelings. Cas’ eyes slide closed as he considers the thought a little closer than he’s allowed himself until now.

Dean ducks his chin and cheeks redden curiously as he turns away to gather something from the table that Cas hadn’t noticed until now.

Cas watches as Dean turns around, his gaze fixated on a small knife in his hand and Cas’ heart skips a beat. “Cas,” Dean starts and Cas’ stomach flutters nervously. “I want you to have this.”

Cas frowns and narrows his eyes as he stares at the knife in Dean’s hands. This isn’t Lilith’s knife. This blade is slightly larger and tapers evenly to a narrow point, the handle is polished until it nearly gleams silver despite the whorls of grey and faint trace of chestnut brown.

Cas starts to reach for it before pulling back nervously. “Dean?” He looks up to meet Dean’s gaze and he swallows hard at the way the candlelight dances in the vivid green of Dean’s eyes.

Dean holds the knife out further and nods. “For you.”

Cas sucks in a breath and timidly reaches for the knife. The handle is cool against his palm as his fingers wrap around the smooth surface. His gaze darts to Dean, seeking confirmation that he understands as he holds the knife up to take a closer look.

Dean smiles and nods, holding out a small leather sheath next. “Keep,” he says when Cas sheaths the knife and holds it out for Dean to take. “For you. Keep, Cas.”

Cas swallows hard with a frowning nod. He doesn’t understand what Dean is trying to accomplish but the hopeful gleam in his eye has Cas moving to tuck the knife into his pocket.

"Let me?" Dean mutters as he stops Cas from tucking the sheathed knife into his pocket. 

Cas' breath hitches and he stands frozen as Dean's fingers brush against his when he slowly unties the knot of Castiel's belt. Dean's movements are purposeful and he holds Cas' gaze as he slides the loop of the sheath onto the belt and carefully reties it before stepping back with a shy smile.

He looks up to meet Dean’s gaze and his breath catches in his throat when he notices Dean’s tender smile. “Thank you, Dean,” Cas mutters softly as he steps back, his heart still fluttering from the feeling of Dean's hesitant touch.

He’s begun to think that perhaps he and Dean have come to some sort of mutual respect and he might be willing to claim Dean as a friend.

But beyond that?

Cas’ entire body tingles without his permission at the thought.

Cas simply cannot allow himself to entertain the possibility.

He is a man of God. He is not meant to be with anyone in that empty way, no matter how the curling tendril of interest in his stomach tempts him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? Questions? Concerns? I'd love to hear from you.


	12. Forbidden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas is having a very difficult day and needs distance to find clarity. Unfortunately, mud abounds.

Dean's enthusiastic enjoyment of the bath spurs Cas to feel that it is a feat worth repeating.

Frequently.

After the first week, Dean asks Cas to show him how the drain works so _he_ can take care of clean up.

Cas stands back, flabbergasted, the first time Dean starts hauling the heavy buckets from their room.

Half a heartbeat later, Castiel mentally flagellates himself for allowing the phrase _their room_ to flit across his consciousness.

This is Dean’s room and the only thing he’s certain of is that Dean _wants_ him here and he stubbornly stomps down on the wayward thought that he might, almost, want to be here too.

Cas busies himself folding laundry fresh from the line outside while Dean makes several trips to the garden to dump his soiled water.

Dean had been in a hurry to dress when Cas returned to the room from studying with Sam, the briefest glimpse of skin obscured before Cas’ cheeks could flush.

Cas can’t help but find the gesture endearing, like so many other little things Dean has done for his comfort. He ducks his chin and focuses intently on the pair of pants in his hands while he narrowly resists smiling at the sight of Dean’s muscled shoulders flexing underneath his now damp shirt.

The idea warms Cas in a way that leaves him smiling softly as he works and discreetly watches Dean as he hauls the buckets from the room.

The way the fabric clings to Dean’s muscles is beautiful in a way that only God’s creations can be and Cas feels no shame in allowing himself to admire the aesthetics of the human body, so he doesn’t understand why his cheeks heat when Dean catches him staring.

He refuses to name the new sensation, but he finds the slow burn in his face and the flutter in his stomach is not entirely unpleasant.

“Stop staring,” Cas says with a quirk of his lips. His lessons in Norse with Sam and Gabriel have been serving him well and he doesn’t need to turn around to know that Dean is smiling.

“Your name. Cast-ee-el.” Dean sounds out the name with each syllable highlighted and carefully pronounced. “What does it mean?” Dean asks.

Cas huffs a laugh and ducks his chin. When he lifts his gaze, a small smile plays at his lips before his tongue darts out to moisten them. His heart stutters and his stomach squirms when Dean’s gaze darkens and drops to the floor as faint pink colors the man’s cheeks.

Interesting.

“I am named after an Angel,” Cas says slowly, using a mixture of Norse and his native language. “Castiel rescued the righteous man from Hell and together they saved the world. Do you know what an Angel is, Dean?” Cas asks, curious to know if Dean remembers anything from his early youth.

Cas feels a pang of guilt for his veiled question, but Dean’s childhood has been a topic that Castiel has avoided. He doesn’t know how to explain who he is or if that would matter to Dean at all.

No.

That is a subject best left untouched.

Dean gives a jerky nod. “I remember…” Dean starts to say but trails off before shaking his head to dispel whatever memory clouds his thoughts. “What is ‘righteous man’?”

Cas sighs and shakes his head fondly as he searches for the words to explain. “A good man.” A lot like Dean, he thinks.

He watches Dean carefully and his heart skips a beat, wanting so badly to ask Dean what he remembers.

Does he remember Cas at all from that time?

He hasn’t even told Gabriel of his memories of the young Princes. Those vivid green eyes he glimpsed through the crack of a barely open door and then the stark burst of joyous laughter that echoed down the stone corridor when Cas had stuck out his tongue in jest.

They’re the same eyes Cas glimpses from time to time even now, during the rare moments when Dean lets himself be at ease and his heart swells each time he sees them.

In those moments, Castiel can almost forget that he was brought here against his will.

He chews his lip and considers telling Dean how he came to be a monk, just to gauge the man’s reaction, but the words die in his throat. He doesn’t know how to explain any of that in words they both understand.

Dean lets out a quiet grunt and Cas resolves to not turn his attention away from the pile of clothes in front of him but Cas turns toward Dean anyway, just in time to see him shrug as he sets the empty bucket next to the fireplace. “Are you happy, Cas?” Dean asks and Cas immediately drops his gaze.

Why would Dean ask him that? Cas’ mouth presses into a flat line as he considers an answer.

He doesn’t want to lie, but he also knows the truth will cause an unhappy crease to form between Dean’s brows and there is nothing more the green-eyed man can do to alleviate the constant sadness plaguing Castiel’s mind.

Cas takes a deep breath and his shoulders sag as he searches for the right words.

Dean’s soft footsteps approach and Castiel cannot bring himself to meet the man’s gaze. “Cas?” Dean asks in a tone that makes his concern obvious.

Damn Dean for being so genuine.

“I’m fine,” Cas says briskly as he presses Dean’s shirt onto the shelf a little harder than necessary. His heart flutters wildly under Dean’s scrutiny and his stomach flutters as a deep warmth floods his insides.

“Cas,” Dean says again as he steps into Castiel’s space and forces him to step back from the dwindling pile of clothes. “That isn’t what I asked.” Dean catches Cas’ hand in his own and Cas’ breath catches at the feeling of Dean’s warm fingers wrapped around his.

“Dean, please,” Cas says. He is nearly willing to beg. He cannot allow these _feelings_ to cloud his judgment. His growing fondness for Dean is all well and good in their normal day to day interactions, but the look of concern painted across Dean’s features has the burning prick of tears forming behind his eyes.

“I am as happy as I can be while missing my home.” Cas clenches his eyes against Dean’s inevitable flash of disappointment. He cannot handle Dean’s concern when Dean is the cause of his heartache.

Castiel has come to believe that Dean earnestly wishes for his happiness, but short of freeing him and allowing Cas to return home, Dean has done everything in his power to ensure Castiel’s contentment.

But content and happy are not the same.

“Cas,” Dean holds Cas’ hand lightly and strokes his cheek with his other hand. Cas starts to lean into the touch before he remembers that he shouldn’t encourage Dean and he goes still as death regardless of how much his heart aches to feel the warmth of Dean’s hand on his skin.

“Dean, please,” Cas says, unsure of just what he’s asking for but Dean’s tender touch and gentle affection are confusing his sensibilities. “I need to sleep.” Cas knows his words are little more than an excuse, but this line of questioning is one he wishes to avoid.

If Dean had asked him about happiness months ago, when he first stole Cas away and brought him here, Cas would have snarled and responded in anger. Now, his heart aches with the knowledge that he could find happiness here one day.

Dean nods and withdraws his touch entirely as he backs out of Cas’ space. “Sleep. Yes,” Dean says but his tone is hollow.

“Goodnight, Dean,” Cas says even as sharp regret courses through him. He turns away from Dean’s clothes, leaving more than one shirt unfolded.

His heart skips a beat when he realizes he’s neglecting his duties but then he also realizes that Dean had never told him to tend to the clothes in the first place.

That is a task that Cas has been slowly taking over from Dean without instruction.

Cas huffs to himself when he considers how deeply he’s come to care for Dean. He’s gone far beyond Dean’s commands.

In fact, Dean has not been commanding anything of him lately.

Everything Cas has done since he introduced the bath has been his own doing.

He risks a glance at Dean and swallows hard when he sees the man standing frozen where Cas left him. His brows are furrowed as he stares at the discarded clothes and his fingers twitch at his side as if there is something he still wishes to say. The forlorn expression settling across his features has Cas aching with regret.

“Dean?” Cas asks softly. He’s almost ready to cross the space and tell Dean what he wants to hear just to wipe the hurt from his expression.

Dean shakes his head as if casting off a spell and he turns his baleful green eyes toward Castiel.

Cas hates that he hates the frown marring Dean’s fine features.

“Goodnight, Cas,” he mutters in a stilted tone as he scrubs a hand over his mouth.

Cas stands rooted to the spot as Dean strips off his still damp shirt and climbs into bed. The sight of so much skin barely even registers as Cas watches Dean try and fail to get comfortable.

Eventually, Cas gives up watching Dean ignore him and settles into his nest. He pulls a blanket of soft rabbit pelts up to his chin, effectively covering himself until he’s hidden from Dean’s view.

As if Dean is even looking at him right now.

He finds the luxuriously soft furs bring him little of their usual comfort as a yawning emptiness fills his chest. His fingers drift toward the band on his pocket and stroke lightly over the warm metal as he closes his eyes and silently prays for revelation.

He is at a loss.

The emotions warring in his chest, the temptation of Dean’s easy affections, and the soft comfort he finds in Sam’s company all have him doubting his purpose here.

He is failing God’s test and he lacks the conviction to right his path.

Dean smothers the lamps beside his bed without a word, leaving the room shrouded in near darkness. The only remaining lamp rests at Cas’ feet at the edge of the bath barrel. Cas lets out a silent huff and pushes himself up to douse the light and plunge the room into darkness fit for hiding in.

Although, Cas is no longer certain if he’s hiding from Dean or himself.

Dean’s band rests heavily in his pocket and Cas considers that perhaps wearing it once more might prove to be an offering of peace. Or, equally, an admission of failure. Regardless, he cannot quite bring himself to do more than gently run his fingertips over the smooth metal.

The thought of wearing it now, when Dean believes the band to be lost, feels entirely too revealing for reasons Cas doesn’t care to think too deeply on.

His sleep is fitful throughout the night as his emotions war within his mind. He longs for freedom, but the thought of running away fills him with an emptiness that chills him to his core.

He can’t bear the idea of leaving his brothers behind. Gabriel would be so disappointed and he fears what might become of Inias if Cas were to disappear.

His brother has a calm and gentle nature but deep inside him lurks someone made of much sterner things than his quiet prayers might reveal. Inias is fierce in his loyalty and Cas cannot bear to think how he might lash out if harm were brought to any of them.

Cas resolutely does not consider what Dean might feel if Castiel were to run away now and he refuses to consider the empty chasm threatening to open in his stomach at the thought of never seeing Dean again.

When the first stirrings of the morning begin to filter through Dean’s heavy door, he sneaks out of the room as quietly as he can without a glance toward Dean.

He doesn’t have the strength to face Dean’s poorly concealed disappointment.

The events of last night paired with Dean’s tenderness since the night be brought mead to share has Cas’ mind reeling and he wishes for little more than to lose himself in his work.

On his way through the longhouse, Cas ducks his head into the kitchen to see who might be working and he’s pleased to see Gadreel and Ezekiel sitting at the low table at the edge of the large room with their heads bowed together in conversation.

Castiel’s breaths come easy as he crosses the room to them and settles next to Gadreel. “Greetings,” He says with a soft smile.

“Castiel,” Gadreel says with a nod.

“Are you well, brother?” Ezekiel asks with a concerned look to his pale blue eyes.

Cas nods and folds his hands in front of him. “I am. And you?” He asks. He hates that he has been neglecting his brothers in favor of his lessons with Sam and time spent with Dean. It seems that lately Dean has been seeking him out for his company rather than any work that needs to be done and Cas finds himself enjoying the attention a little too much.

Ezekiel’s shy smile has Cas arching a curious brow before Gadreel shakes his head with a fond smile.

“I believe our brother has found romance,” Gadreel teases and Ezekiel’s cheeks flush pink as he ducks his chin.

“Truly?” Cas asks as he leans forward earnestly. “That is happy news.” He can’t help but smile. Ezekiel deserves happiness in his life and if he can find some here, then all the better.

Ezekiel nods and meets Cas’ gaze with a smile. “I am hoping to speak with the Jarl about our joining hands, but I do not know how to approach the man. I fear he would only punish me for speaking.” Ezekiel’s smile turns into a frown and he picks at his nails out of nervousness.

Cas nods along to his brother’s words. He knows all too well how the Jarl feels about the monks in his possession. He made that perfectly clear when he beat Cas at the banquet. “You should speak with Dean,” Cas says before the thought fully forms in his mind. He sucks in a deep breath through his mouth when Ezekiel and Gadreel turn their gazes to him. “Dean is a reasonable man.”

Gadreel tilts his head as he regards Cas and Ezekiel huffs and shakes his head. “Dean treats you well, that much is clear. But unlike you, I have nothing to offer him for his favor. Do you truly believe Dean would listen to me?” Ezekiel’s choice of words cut through Cas and leave him narrowed eyes.

“What are you implying, brother?” Cas asks. He tries to keep his tone even, but a faint trace of venom is still apparent. He does not appreciate the insinuation laced in his brother’s words. His shoulders straighten as he stares Ezekiel down, waiting for a response.

Gadreel huffs. “Come off it, Castiel. We all know why Dean treats you so favorably.”

Cas’ shoulders straighten further and his heart begins to race. “Do me a favor and explain the reason to me then.”

Ezekiel looks supremely uncomfortable and Gadreel shakes his head. “You share his bed every night, Castiel. Surely you understand why that would cause Dean to spoil you.” Ezekiel almost looks bitter as the words are said and Cas sucks in a sharp breath when understanding dawns.

Cas shakes his head and his lips part as his brow furrows. “What?” He says haughtily through clenched teeth. “I do not share his bed.”

Gadreel arches a disbelieving brow and Ezekiel shakes his head.

“Dean is a righteous man. He would not touch me against my will and I have not willed such behavior,” Cas says quietly as he glares at his brothers. “Do not tarnish my name or his with these baseless rumors.”

Ezekiel huffs and shakes his head. “So righteous that he would make us slaves?”

Cas deflates and shakes his head. “I have chosen to forgive him. He is not ours to judge.”

Gadreel’s mouth draws into a flat line and he bumps Cas’ shoulder with his own in a gesture of understanding. “May I ask what happened to you? Back in the beginning? You weren’t with us, and then Dean pulled you out of the woods with that man we never saw again. We heard that Dean murdered him,” Gadreel says in a rambling fashion and Cas tenses with nearly every word that passes his brother’s lips.

Cas lets his eyes slide closed and he forces himself to take a deep breath. He hasn’t told anyone what had happened and he wonders how it is that the Norsemen who know, who were there, haven’t said anything that has reached the ears of his brothers.

He would thank each of them for their silence if he could.

But perhaps it is time for them to know.

“I went to the Viking camp in hopes of rescuing you all. But Alastair found me before I could even try. Dean executed him for…” Cas pauses to take another deep breath to steady his nerves, “for raping me.”

His ears ring as the word leaves his mouth and the silence surrounding him is oppressive as his heart hammers in his chest. The threat of panic looms but he swallows hard against the rising emotion and he forces himself to take another deep breath.

Gadreel and Ezekiel both gasp and cover their mouths with their hands.

Gadreel is the first to recover and he wraps an arm around Castiel’s back to pull him into a half-hug that does more to settle Cas’ racing heart than any words could. He lets himself lean against Gadreel’s side as his head hangs in shame. “Castiel, I…I do not know what to say,” He whispers sadly.

“Dean has been protecting you then,” Ezekiel finally says and Cas nods silently. “I thought he was merely coveting you.”

Cas huffs a laugh. “Well, that too,” He says in jest but the joke falls flat. The words are too true to bring amusement. “Dean is, difficult to understand,” Cas says after a pause. He straightens in his seat and Gadreel’s arm drops from shoulders.

“He cares for you, and you have come to care for him.” Gadreel observes and Cas arches a brow when he notices the lack of judgment in his tone. “I feel I may have made a dire mistake, brother.”

Cas narrows his eyes in a squint and Ezekiel tilts his head in confusion.

“What do you mean?” Ezekiel asks quietly. His tone is laced with a suspicion that has Cas’ heart rate increasing.

Gadreel glances around the room. “You believe Dean and his family to be good men?” Gadreel asks of Castiel with a pinched from.

Castiel nods and then shakes his head. “Dean and his brother, Sam. Yes. I must admit to finding Jarl Samuel to be less good.” Cas sucks in a breath. “Have you seen the sword Dean carries?”

Gadreel and Ezekiel both look to Cas with confusion written across their features. “No,” they say in near unison.

“Not closely.” Ezekiel leans back and tilts his head. “The look of it is strange compared to the weapons the other Norse carry.”

Castiel nods. “He carries the Wyvern sword of King John of Winchester,” Cas says lowly, waiting for his brothers to connect the pieces.

Gadreel gapes and then presses his mouth into a firm line. Ezekiel mirrors his actions before his eyes widen in understanding.

“The King’s missing sons. Prince Dean and Prince Samuel. Oh, mercy be, you think this Dean and Sam are the lost Princes?” Ezekiel says with wonder laced in his tone.

Castiel nods. “I do. Sam admitted to me that they weren’t born as Norse. They were adopted by Jarl Samuel when Sam was too young to remember. He doesn’t know who his father is, but he knows that he is not Samuel’s son.”

Gadreel looks stricken. The blood has drained from his face, causing him to look pale in the dim light of the kitchen and his stiffens next to Castiel. “Then I have doubly made a terrible error.”

“Gadreel, what have you done that is so grievous?” Ezekiel asks as he studies his friend.

“Asmodeus promised our freedom. I thought, Metatron convinced me that was the only way,” Gadreel says and Castiel’s blood runs cold.

“You’ve been working with Asmodeus?” Cas asks. His mouth has gone dry and his heart races. “How? What have you done?” Castiel’s tone rises with each question and Gadreel flinches.

“He asked for information and promised our freedom in return. He wishes to overthrow Jarl Samuel, I thought I was doing the right thing.” Gadreel looks between Cas and Ezekiel as he speaks with worry building across his features.

Cas glowers at his brother. “You have been played for a fool, Gadreel. Asmodeus and his family are cruel and vindictive.”

“Evil,” Ezekiel says with a frown. “Ingrid has told me much about them. Asmodeus is Samuel’s older brother. He was passed over by their father because of his cruelty and has been scheming to overthrow Samuel ever since. “I thought…I didn’t believe her when she said that Dean and Sam are Samuel’s grandsons rather than sons. He had a daughter who married a Saxon and left her family behind. Seven years later, Samuel comes back from a raid with young Dean and Sam in tow. They knew nothing of the Norse life and many people balked at the idea of them being adopted by their Jarl. Asmodeus asserts that Dean is an illegitimate heir.”

Cas’ jaw drops slightly and Gadreel buries his head in his hands. “Grandsons? That would mean… that only proves that they’re King John’s sons!” Cas leans forward. “Remember the story? That the King married a Norse woman? She changed her name, adopted our religion and swore off her old life?”

Gadreel and Ezekiel both nod. They remember. Of course, they remember. At the time, the King of Wessex making a barbarian woman his Queen was quite the scandal. But Mary was like a ray of sunshine on a bleak day and Wessex quickly came to adore her. When she perished from birthing Prince Samuel, the entire kingdom mourned her passing.

“What should I do?” Gadreel asks. His eyes frantically look between Castiel and Ezekiel, hoping for answers.

Cas sucks in a breath and nods, already hating the words he forces himself to say. “We must speak with Sam.”

\---

Sam is furious, to say the least. He paces and tugs at his hair as he lets Gadreel’s admission sink in.

“Damn it!” Sam grates and Gadreel shrinks back. “No, no. I’m not upset with you. I mean, I am, but I’m not. I understand.” Sam takes a step toward the monk but pauses when Gabriel rests a staying hand on Sam’s elbow.

Cas steps between Sam and Gadreel with a glare etched on his features. “Stay away from him,” Cas says with a low growl and Ezekiel stands off to the side simply observing.

“Cassie.” Gabe rolls his eyes. “You know Samsquatch better than that,” He says in a chiding tone as he looks between Cas and Sam.

Sam huffs and shakes his head. “It’s alright, Gabe.”

“No.” Cas shakes his head. “It’s not, I’m sorry, Sam.” Cas’ shoulders deflate and he turns himself away to drop into one of the wooden chairs at Sam’s small table.

“I am sorry, Sam,” Gadreel says quietly with his head bowed. He takes a brave step forward and Ezekiel shifts on his feet behind him.

“Please, sit.” Sam gestures to the place beside Cas at the table. “Cas, would you go get Dean? He needs to know what’s going on.”

Cas swallows hard and forces a nod. He doesn’t want to speak to Dean. Not yet.

“I’ll go,” Gabe cuts in, bless him. Somehow, he always seems to be able to read Cas a little too well and for once, Cas isn’t going to complain.

Sam arches a brow while Cas looks to the table with a fierce blush blooming over his cheeks. “Uh, okay?” Sam says, his words are more of a question than a statement but Gabe nods and heads for the door anyway.

“We’re talking about this later baby bro,” Gabe says to Cas with an arched brow and Cas buries his head in his arms as he groans in misery.

Gabe quickly strides from the room as he whistles a jaunty tune that has Ezekiel letting out an amused huff.

“Gadreel was fooled by Metatron, but any of us would have been,” Ezekiel says as he steps across the room and sits between Sam and Gadreel.

Sam bypasses them entirely and settles on the other side of Castiel. “Cas? What was that about?” He asks with a hand on Cas’ shoulder.

Cas doesn’t lift his head, he only groans again and shakes his head against his arm. “No,” He says. His tone is muffled by the fabric of his robe and Sam only laughs.

“What’d Dean do now?” Sam offers good-naturedly and Cas finally lifts his chin to peer at Sam with slitted eyes.

“Mine is not the issue at hand, Sam,” Cas says dryly and nods toward Gadreel.

Sam huffs as his lip quirks in amusement. “You’ve gotten awfully cheeky.” Sam teases and nudges Cas shoulder.

Cas’ narrowed gaze turns into a tired glare. He’s gotten comfortable with Sam, but he isn’t in the mood to play.

“Castiel always has had a dry sense of humor,” Ezekiel says softly. “But my brother is correct, the problem at hand is how to handle Metatron’s betrayal.”

“Do you truly believe that Metatron understands what he’s been doing? Is it not more likely that he has been duped as I was? If not for Castiel voicing his trust for you and your brother, I would not have known I was doing wrong.” Gadreel admits. He stares at Sam as he speaks and the young Norseman nods along in understanding.

Cas huffs and shakes his head. “Lord forgive me for my honesty, but Marv has always been on the verge of untrustworthy.”

“Brother, you know how he hates that name.” Gadreel chides and shakes his head.

Ezekiel huffs just as Sam opens his mouth to speak.

“Marv?” Sam asks with a slight tilt of his head.

“His given name,” Ezekiel says. “He changed his name when he joined our brotherhood, thinking that fashioning himself after the scribe of God would be preferable to the poor man’s son he was born as.”

“He has always been ambitious. He will follow whoever can offer him the most,” Cas says simply.

“I have never fully trusted him, but…” Ezekiel says but Gadreel cuts in before he can finish his thought.

“He is our brother under the Lord. He would not betray us,” Gadreel says firmly and Cas immediately huffs his disagreement. “Castiel, many of our brothers have questioned your loyalty. Metatron should be given the same benefit of the doubt.”

Cas gives a derisive snort and shakes his head. “Assuming that I’ve been letting Dean fuck me is giving me the benefit of the doubt?” He asks with an arched brow and Sam lets out a small gasp. “I suppose that is only a shade more charitable than assuming Dean has been raping me.”

Gadreel flushes crimson with shame and drops his gaze. “I am sorry brother, I know not what has come over me.”

Ezekiel turns to rest a hand on Gadreel’s shoulder as he looks around the man to meet Castiel’s gaze.

Cas burns with anger. Seethes with it. He wants to throw something just to hear it break.

“Dean…” Sam starts but Cas spins in his seat to turn his glare on the younger man.

“Dean would _never_ do that to me. You don’t need to defend your brother to me anymore, Sam. I’ve come to know him well enough.” Cas spits and pushes to his feet. He needs to get away from all this. After last night, he doesn’t want to see Dean and knowing that he’s on his way to this room has Cas’ stomach twisting with nervous dread.

He’s let the man get too close. Cas doesn’t know what to do with the strange feelings swirling in his gut and he just needs to be _alone._ “You can deal with this, I have work to do.” Cas waves a hand and strides toward the door without waiting for Sam’s permission.

“Cas, what?” Dean starts to say as Cas nearly bowls him over as he shoves his way through the door.

Cas doesn’t meet his eyes and he doesn’t stop moving.

“Cassie!” Gabe calls but Cas ignores him. They can deal with this mess.

Cas trudges to the barn and grabs the tools he needs to prune the small plants growing under his tender care and to dig out the weeds that insist on marring his perfect rows. He has beans nearly ready for harvest and… his frustrations boil over and he rubs his eyes with the heels of his palms as his thoughts stutter to a halt.

He needs to speak with Inias.

This is all too overwhelming and he needs the comfort of his oldest friend.

His tools find themselves abandoned as he trudges toward the smaller house where Inias and Samandriel stay with the orphaned children and widows of the village. Surely, his brothers are already awake and working so he should be able to slide in beside them and help while they talk.

Yes. That is what he shall do.

Cas knocks gently on the kitchen door before he enters quietly. Samandriel is the first to catch his eye and the younger man smiles sweetly. “Castiel,” Samandriel says in greeting as he dries his hands on a scrap of linen.

“Alfie,” Cas says with a nod and serene smile. “It is good to see you, brother.”

“Likewise,” Samandriel says as he holds out a hand for Cas to take.

“Castiel?” Inias says as he comes around the corner. “What brings you here?” He quickly crosses the space and draws Cas into a warm embrace that lasts perhaps a heartbeat too long but Cas relishes the familiar feeling of Inias’ arms around him.

“I was hoping that I may speak with you,” Cas says as he glances between the two men. “I find my mind clouded by lack of distance and I pray that you may offer some perspective.”

Inias nods and grasps Cas’ hand. “Certainly,” He says with a smile and Alfie nods as well.

“Are you troubled by Dean’s apparent feelings for you?” Samandriel questions lightly and Inias sends him a cross look.

“Don’t be silly, Alfie. Surely Castiel is not falling for Dean’s wiles.” Inias turns toward the board where a large round of bread dough waits to be kneaded.

Cas’ gaze flits between his brothers and his brow arches in confusion at Inias’ suddenly harsh tone. Alfie merely rolls his eyes with a shrug.

“What troubles you, Castiel?” Inias asks after a moment of strained silence. His gaze is locked on the dough beneath his fingers but his attention is clearly focused on Castiel no matter how Inias may try to hide it.

Cas takes a deep breath and lets it out with a sigh as he joins Alfie at the basin of water. He picks up a rag and takes over scrubbing the dishes while Alfie carefully dries them. “I fear Samandriel is closer to the truth then I would prefer to admit.” He swallows hard around his next words when he sees the way Inias’ shoulders tense. “I have been feeling strange about Dean lately and I know not what to make of my growing fondness for the man.”

“You’re coming to care for him,” Inias says flatly. He doesn’t turn around, but Cas doesn’t need to see the man’s scowl to know his features are twisted in displeasure. “Do not fall for Dean’s deception, brother. He only wishes to twist you to his whims.”

Cas swallows hard and his eyes blow wide at the sheer hatred openly displayed in Inias’ tone. “Dean has been caring and kind to me,” He says, weakly trying to defend the man.

“Perhaps it only seems that way, brother,” Samandriel says softly as he rests a light hand on Castiel’s arm. “Dean has gone to great lengths to keep you separated from us, has he not? He wishes to possess you.”

Cas frowns and shakes his head before nodding. “He did in the beginning, but something has changed. He has also gone to great lengths to keep me from harm.”

Inias snorts derisively. “Only because you’ve been warming his bed.”

“I have not,” Cas says with a hard edge to his tone. “Those rumors are unfounded and I will not stand for them.”

Inias turns around then and Cas can see the fine lines of tension etched in his features. “You mean to tell me that Dean has not violated you? That you go with him willingly?”

Cas takes a step back and his brow furrows in astonishment. “Dean has not harmed me and will not,” Cas says flatly before another thought crosses his mind. “If I were to ever lay with Dean, it would be of my own will and consent.”

Castiel doesn’t know why, but this seems critically important. He believes now, despite Dean’s propensity for casually intimate touches, that the man would never take Cas against his will. That kind of brutality is not in his nature.

“Dean is a good man,” Cas says with the deepest conviction.

Samandriel’s lips press into a flat line but his moves in a faint nod of agreement. “I trust your judgment, Castiel. You know I do.”

Cas swallows hard and nods with a frown. He knows Alfie well enough to discern there is more to his words than he speaks.

Inias huffs and spins back to his bread dough. “You have fallen under the devil’s spell,” He says lowly and Cas doesn’t bother to restrain his gasp.

Inias turns around at the gentle sound of surprise with a deeply furrowed brow and narrowed eyes. His normally fine features have grown harsh and his warm gaze has turned cold enough to give Castiel a chill. “You have let yourself be deceived by a barbarian who only seeks to own you, Castiel. Dean is not a good man. None of them are, and yet you have come to prefer their company over your own kind?”

“Inias,” Cas starts to say but the hate-filled glare he receives from Inias chills him to the core. What has he done that is so dire in his brother’s eyes? “You speak as if I have betrayed you.”

Inias snorts and shakes his head. “Go back to your master, Castiel.”

Cas sucks in a shaky breath and fights against the tears gathering behind his eyes.

“Come Castiel, let us speak outside,” Alfie says softly and takes hold of Cas’ elbow to lead him out.

“What have I done?” Castiel asks numbly. Inias has always been his closest friend and now suddenly his gaze is so full of hatred that Cas feels he may become ill.

Alfie sighs and shakes his head. “You have done nothing but fail to reciprocate his affections.”

Cas turns to face Samandriel with wide eyes and he shakes his head. Inias doesn’t, he can’t. Can he? “No, Inias doesn’t...”

Alfie arches a brow with a fond smirk before he huffs and shakes his head in amusement. “You have always been the blindest among us at times.”

“That’s impossible. Alfie, you cannot be serious.” Cas shakes his head in denial as he replays every interaction he’s ever had with his friend. His best friend. “Inias is a brother to me, a dear friend. Surely he doesn’t desire more than that.”

Alfie lets out a sad sigh and shakes his head. “Oh, Castiel. Inias has mooned over you for years now. Have you never noticed his favor?”

Cas shakes his head again. Alfie must be mistaken. There is no way Inias sees him as anything more than a friend.

“Castiel,” Samandriel says with a note of impatience in his voice. He rests his hand on Castiel’s forearm, effectively stilling their forward progress. “Think. Do any of our brothers touch you as he does? Does he touch anyone else as he does you? Does he not come each time you call and go out of his way to be near you?”

There is no judgment in Alfie’s tone but the pain cuts through Cas all the same. Samandriel is correct. Inias has always been different with Cas and he greedily soaked up the easy affection because no one else would grant him that.

For years, he and Inias have been closer than most but Castiel never once thought of there was anything more to their interactions than simple brotherly fondness. “I’ve hurt him, haven’t I?”

Samandriel nods. “He sees your acceptance of Dean’s attentions as a betrayal. We saw you run into his arms those weeks ago, how you embraced him and allowed him to comfort you after Lilith… Inias saw all of that and I’ve never seen him so wounded, Castiel.”

“I can’t, I don’t...Alfie, I don’t see him as anything more than a friend.” Cas feels tears burn in his eyes and his lip trembles. His heart absolutely aches with the pain he has inadvertently caused his brother.

“I know, Castiel. So does he. Give him time.” Alfie’s light touch on Castiel’s arm draws away and he gives Cas a wry smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Do you believe that you can come to care for Dean in such a manner?” He asks, changing the subject promptly enough to leave Castiel’s mind reeling.

“Dean is... Dean makes me feel different than I’ve ever felt. Weak and strong at the same time. I tried so valiantly to hate him but...” Cas starts before shaking his head as he tries to come up with an explanation. He ends up simply hanging his head. “Have I only come to care for him because he’s given me no option?”

Samandriel sighs but Cas can’t bring himself to lift his gaze. “I believe God has put you into this difficult situation to test you. Tell me, brother, how could you find good in this situation if our Father had not meant for you to find it?”

“Should I not be meant to resist?” Castiel offers, voicing a question he has thought on several times now but he can never find an answer that feels correct.

“Resist kindness and honest affection?” Alfie arches a brow when Cas finally lifts his gaze from the ground at their feet. “Dean is clearly taken with you and despite how we came to be here, has he not atoned for his actions? Do you hold any lingering mistrust of him?”

Cas chews on his lip and shakes his head. “I trust him. I feel as if I should not, and yet I do.”

“Then trust yourself,” Alfie says simply. “Give Inias time and trust in your own judgment. You deserve to be happy, Castiel. If you think you can find joy with Dean, then don’t continue punishing yourself.”

Cas stares at his brother openly. He doesn’t know what to say. He feels like he should argue, tell him that giving in and addressing that strange flutter in his stomach every time he glimpses Dean’s smile would be a mistake.

Alfie gives him a half-smile and claps his shoulder fondly. “I must return to my duties. Unlike you, some of us still face reprimand if we shirk our assignments,” he says teasingly but Cas still swallows hard around the truth to his brother’s words.

“Right. I should go. Tell Inias that I’m sorry, please,” Cas says sullenly. Guilt constricts his lung at the thought of his brother. His best friend who he has unwittingly hurt in the most painful of ways.

Samandriel dips his chin in a brief nod. “Take care, Castiel.” At that, Alfie turns away and disappears inside the house, leaving Cas to stare after him as he gathers his thoughts.

He has much to consider.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think about Cas' conflicting feelings and the spot Inias has put him in?


	13. A Scheme Uncovered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel's day is full of surprises, and strangely, finding himself unexpectedly soaking wet is among the nicest.

Cas busies himself until late and rises early for days, doing his best to avoid Dean’s weighty stare. Each time those green eyes catch his, Cas feels a slow burn in his stomach and his cheeks heat with an expectation that he wishes he could label as shame.

Alfie’s words still ring in his ears and guilt threatens to close his throat each time he considers the pained betrayal that Inias hasn’t bothered to hide. He wonders how he managed to be so blind as to not notice the liberties Inias takes with him and no one else. The gentle touches, the hand holding, his fervent defense when Cas was threatened.

Even his special smile that seems only reserved for Castiel.

Why didn’t he _say_ something?

Cas despairs at the thought that he never once experienced these nervous flutters with Inias, the temptation to ask for more. He’s never felt like he does when he looks at Dean.

Perhaps it is for the best the Inias kept his silence for so long.

Castiel doesn’t think he could ever grow to think of Inias as more than a dear friend and brother. With Inias, he would not find the kind of pleasure and happiness that he never imagined before he began to see Dean for who he is rather than what he’s done.

Could he find that pleasure and happiness with Dean? The tingle low in his belly every time the man touches him promises that he might.

Questions and doubts cycle endlessly in his mind until he shakes his head and shoves his thoughts to the side.

He has work to focus on.

His gardening tools still lie where he left them the night before and he gathers them in his arms easily. He gives a firm nod to Gadreel and the man gives him a timid smile that has Cas turning away with a low grumble under his breath.

Ezekiel is still nowhere to be seen and part of Castiel hopes that he is speaking with Dean about fastening hands with Ingrid.

At least one of them deserves to be happy.

Cas is pleased to notice Lilith’s continued absence. After her most recent attack on Castiel’s character, Dean had her assigned to less savory duties and Cas cannot find it in himself to be ashamed of his satisfaction.

Overnight rain has made the ground soft and malleable under his spade and Cas quickly loses himself in his task. The tall stalks of barley are growing well and caring for them is easy work. Much easier than planting had been.

He pointedly does not allow his thoughts to drift toward Dean, Inias, Gadreel or any of the baseless rumors that seemingly everyone has come to believe about himself and Dean.

If he keeps his head down and his eyes cast low, he can almost imagine these past few months have been little more than a dream.

Eventually, a Norse slave comes around with a bucket of fresh water and encourages Cas to take a break. The man is friendly enough, usually content to ignore Castiel and the other monks so long as they don’t cause trouble.

Cas gladly accepts the cup of cool and refreshing liquid and tilts his chin back to drink greedily after mumbling his thanks. The air is humid and the sun beating down on his chestnut brown robe has sweat beading along his brow and running down his back.

A dip in the cold stream outside the village border sounds heavenly but he fears that will not be an option today. Not that Cas would dare undress and risk becoming vulnerable even if it were.

No. He doesn’t dare do more than wipe himself down with a damp rag in the safety of Dean’s room when he’s alone.

He stinks. He knows he does but he cannot work up the courage to resolve his dilemma.

He dips into the bucket once more but he falls still with the cup half-way to his lips when his eyes catch the sight of blond hair and deep chestnut disappearing around a corner. Lilith and Ruby.

Dean has made no secret of his dislike for Ruby and seeing her with Lilith is too curious for Cas to ignore. He drops the cup unceremoniously into the bucket and ignores the stern glare from the other man when the water splashes.

The distinct feeling of wrong tingles low in Cas’ gut as he sets his tools aside and slinks toward where he saw the women disappear.

A glance around the village center fails to reveal Dean or Sam, so Cas goes alone. If he can simply overhear what they’re saying and quiet his suspicions, then perhaps he will be satisfied.

Gadreel’s words of Metatron’s betrayal repeat in his head and he cannot help the connections he sees between Azazel and Lilith that extend to Ruby.

Cas keeps his steps light as he ducks into the shadows and presses his ear close to the corner of the house. His heart hammers in his ears and his mouth goes dry as catches a glimpse of Lilith’s golden hair only a few feet away but he’s certain the women cannot see him.

“Dean has his stupid Christian fooled,” Lilith whispers and Cas’ eyes narrow. “Trying to convince him to join us will do no good.”

Ruby huffs audibly and Cas can hear her shift his feet. “I had Sam wrapped around my finger just like Asmodeus asked until _Gabriel_ started putting ideas in his gigantic head,” She says with a disgruntled hiss. “You think I enjoy being friendly with that moose?”

Cas wrinkles his nose and jerks his head back. He doesn’t understand all of their words, but he understands enough to know they’re complaining. He closes his eyes to listen more carefully, hoping to catch something useful.

“It would be easier to kill the Christians to get to the heirs. Dean wouldn’t want to see his pretty little toy harmed again.” Lilith’s snide tone washes over Cas like acid and he fights down the bile that’s risen in his throat. He can’t keep listening to this.

He sucks in a sharp breath and glances around, once again hoping to see Dean striding across the open space.

Dean is nowhere to be seen but Cas’ careful gaze does land on Benny and his feet are moving before his thoughts can fully form.

“Benny!” Cas calls out in a hushed whisper. The man looks at him curiously with a slight tilt to his head but he follows Cas’ frantic wave.

“What’s goin on?” Benny asks as soon as he’s close enough and Cas quickly hushes him.

“Lilith. Ruby. Listen,” Cas says in a whisper as he grips Benny’s forearm and leads him to the corner of the building.

Benny smirks and rolls his eyes but takes Cas’ direction and presses his ear to the corner of the building. The two women are still speaking in hushed tones but most of their speech is beyond Cas’ understanding.

He hears Virgil’s name as well as Metatron and Asmodeus. The sound of his brother’s names being lumped in with someone like Asmodeus has Cas’ blood heating and his hands clench at his sides as he watches Benny’s expression morph from amusement into outrage.

Cas backs away slowly but Benny locks his arm in an iron grip. “Dean is with the Jarl. Go. Get. Him. Now.” Benny says lowly and his hand rests over the hilt of the short sword he always carries.

Cas nods hurriedly and his heart lodges in his throat when Benny releases him with a slight shove.

His pulse races as he hurries toward the center of the longhouse and his stomach threatens outright rebellion when the closed door to the Jarl’s private chambers comes into view. He tries to take a steadying breath as he knocks but his pulse continues to flutter wildly.

“Enter!” A booming voice calls from behind the door and Cas clenches his eyes shut as he pushes the heavy wooden door open.

“Cas?” Dean asks, his tone echoing outright surprise.

“What do you want?” Jarl Samuel demands and Cas does his best to hide the way he trembles.

“Apologies, sir,” he mumbles in the general direction of the Jarl before lifting his chin high and meeting Dean’s gaze fully for the first time in days. “Benny needs you, Dean. Now,” Cas says, proud that his voice only wavers slightly in the face of Samuel’s cold glare.

Samuel huffs and waves a hand. “Whatever Benjamin wants can wait. We have important matters to attend.”

Dean opens his mouth to speak but no words come out. His eyes tell Cas that he would much prefer to leave with Cas than stay, but he is duty-bound to obey his father.

“Dean, please. It...” Cas fumbles. He doesn’t know the Norse word for emergency and he doesn’t know how to communicate the situation without Jarl Samuel asking further questions. Cas knows that Dean has been keeping things from the man and he does not want to be the one to break Dean’s trust. “Please,” Cas says again, hoping that his steady gaze is enough to convince Dean that this is important.

“Be gone with you, Christian.” Jarl Samuel waves his hand dismissively and his tone sounds more bored than angry, but Cas has learned the man’s moods can swing with little warning.

“Cas,” Dean says, gesturing Cas to come closer.

Samuel huffs when Castiel obeys and approaches Dean with hurried steps. Cas can’t help but cast furtive glances toward the other man but he does his best to keep his attention on Dean.

“Please, Dean. Benny needs,” Cas says before letting out a frustrated huff. Dean’s brow scrunches in sympathy and Cas decides to take a chance. He rests his hand on Dean’s shoulder and leans forward to whisper in his ear. “Ruby and Lilith, Dean. Benny needs you.” He draws back without moving his hand to take in Dean’s widened eyes.

“There is an emergency, I must attend to Benny immediately,” Dean says firmly as he pushes to his feet. Cas takes a step back and casts his eyes downward. “I will return as soon as the matter is dealt with.”

“Dean, you are needed here,” Samuel grates.

“My apologies, sir. I will return shortly.” Dean nudges Cas toward the door and Cas all but flees at the invitation.

“Dean!” Samuel shouts but Dean is already halfway out the door behind Cas.

“Come,” Cas urges as he reaches out to take Dean’s hand with uncommon confidence. Cas swallows hard to temper his racing heart but he cannot ignore how the right it feels to hold Dean’s hand in his.

Dean covers his shock well and quickly turns his wrist to lace their fingers together as Cas tugs him through the doors to were Benny still waits, spying on the traitorous women.

“Go,” Cas points at Benny to urge Dean along and Dean rewards him with a firm nod and twitch of a smile before he breaks into a half jog toward his friend.

Cas doesn’t know what else to do as watches Dean take Benny’s place at the corner of the house where he assumes Ruby and Lilith are still scheming.

Surely Dean and Benny will not need his help but that does little to lessen the white-hot pang of dread lancing through his stomach.

“What is happening?” Ephraim approaches and comes to a stop next to Castiel.

Cas hasn’t seen much of his brother since their arrival and his presence fills Cas with unease now. He no longer knows who he can trust.

“I don’t know,” Castiel lies as he tries to smooth the worry from his features.

Ephraim looks at Cas and Cas swears the man can see down into his soul as he stares. “I have heard troubling whispers, I hope you can give them weight or dismiss them entirely. You are close to the older heir, correct?”

Cas scowls. “No. Dean is not fucking me.” Cas is done with veiled references and niceties.

Ephraim sucks in a breath and arches a brow. “Those are not the whispers I was referring to. Your business in that regard is your own,” Ephraim says with a soft smirk of a smile.

Cas flushes crimson and ducks his chin.

Ephraim laughs softly and shakes his head. “However, I would not judge you if you wished to be in such a relationship.”

Cas’ cheeks heat further at Ephraim’s insinuation but he doesn’t bother denying anything. Ephraim has a way of seeing through people and their lies that Cas has no interest in challenging. “Then what have you heard?” Cas asks meekly, wishing for a change of topic.

“I have heard that the Jarl’s rule is contested. That your Dean and his brother may be in danger from their uncle. I have also heard they may be the lost princes of Wessex?” Ephraim’s tone changes then and Cas swears he almost sounds wistful.

“I believe you are correct on all accounts,” Cas says softly, admitting to himself that perhaps Asmodeus is a threat to more than just him. The thought of Dean being harmed has a knot forming at the base of his throat that makes swallowing nearly impossible and his hands clench at his sides.

“Then I wish to affirm my loyalty. If the two brothers are our Princes, we all owe them our allegiance no matter their current status.” Ephraim crosses his arms over his chest as he continues to stare at Castiel.

Cas shifts uncomfortably but a pleasing warmth blooms in his chest. “Thank you, brother.”

“If I can be of service, you or Gabriel need only ask. I feel the two of you are in the best position to keep us all safe. Our brothers listen to you and I fear Metatron is no longer to be trusted.” Ephraim claps Cas on the shoulder in solidarity and Cas finds his cheeks flushing once again.

Cas huffs, he isn’t certain that Ephraim’s words are entirely true and the thought brings Castiel back to his endless circle of self-loathing. They may listen to Gabriel, but him? Cas is nothing to them but a failure. “Marv was never to be trusted.” He deflects with a wave of his hand.

“That may be so,” Ephraim says with a kind smile before he turns and walks away as if he was never speaking with Cas to begin with.

Cas stares after his brother as he returns to the healer’s house and disappears inside. Eventually, Cas’ vision starts to blur and lose focus and he turns his head in time to see Dean storming toward him with a drawn expression and Benny on his heels. “Go to Sam, stay there until I come for you,” Dean says abruptly as he passes but he doesn’t bother stopping.

Cas swallows hard and nods. He can do that.

Gabriel is set to begin teaching him to defend himself, perhaps now would be a good time for a lesson.

Benny gives him a twitch of a smile and a nod as he trails after Dean toward the center of the longhouse and Cas is left standing alone once more.

Cas can feel Gadreel’s heavy gaze on his back but he doesn’t have the will to face the man. He needs to find Sam.

\---

By the time Dean comes for him, Castiel is sweaty and exhausted. His robes have proved to be cumbersome in hand to hand combat but Castiel still feels the exhilaration of battle and he meets Dean with a grin.

Dean explains that he finally informed Samuel of his suspicions and he ordered the arrest of Ruby and Lilith for conspiring against the Jarl and his household.

The women did not go quietly and Cas almost wished he had been permitted to watch as they were imprisoned. Asmodeus and Azazel, of course, are fuming.

“Did you learn much?” Dean asks Cas but looks to Gabriel as the older monk brushes his long hair out of his face to tuck behind his ear.

“Yes.” Cas nods and his smile refuses to dim. His pulse is still racing from the exertion but he feels so _good _that he revels in the feeling instead of trying to calm himself.

“Cassie always has been a quick learner,” Gabe says by way of compliment and the smile Dean gives Cas causes his heart to swell with pride.

“Very good, Cas.” Dean’s eyes light with happiness and his smile is so pleased and genuine that Cas’ spirits soar with his simple praise.

Dean seems unusually quiet as he walks Cas back to his room and Cas feels cold without the man’s easy touch. Perhaps Dean is more upset by today’s events than Cas had first thought? Or perhaps Dean was only pretending to be proud of Castiel?

Cas wonders if Dean fears that he may use his newly learned skills against him, but he cannot find it in his heart to truly believe Dean would feel threatened by him.

They’ve been sleeping in the same room with easily reached weapons for far too long. If Cas were inclined to bring Dean harm, he has already had ample opportunity to try and neither of them counts the blood Cas drew when he was held firmly in the clutches of a nightmare.

Dean has no reason to fear him and Cas is certain that Dean doesn’t.

Dean’s fingers twitch at his sides as they walk and Cas watches him with growing trepidation as they grow closer to the room.

“Dean, are you okay?” Cas asks. He cannot ignore Dean’s unease any longer. Something is bothering him.

Dean nods jerkily. “Fine,” He says and gives Cas a watery smile.

Cas arches a brow but doesn’t comment on Dean’s obvious lie. Cas doesn’t have the words to question him on it anyway.

“Cas,” Dean says as he pushes open the door to his room. Dean pauses to swallow hard when Cas steps inside and gently closes the door behind him.

Cas looks at Dean quizzically when the man sucks in a deep breath and tilts his chin toward the ceiling.

“Cas, bath,” Dean says with apparent difficulty. His eyes are blown wide and nervous when he looks toward Cas but Cas simply shrugs.

“Yes, Dean,” Cas says easily, still confused about Dean’s hesitant posture and the way his voice almost cracked around his words. He sets his confusion aside with a shrug and strides past Dean toward the large tub. He’ll have to fetch water to fill it, but he understands that Dean is surely tense from the day’s developments and Cas could use a little time to himself as well.

Cas reaches for the buckets but his eyes catch on the way the tub is already brimming with water and the way gentle steam rises from the surface. He turns to Dean with confusion in his gaze and Dean smiles shyly.

“_Cas_ take bath,” Dean says and Cas’ confusion only grows as Dean crosses the room and steps into his space.

“Dean?” Cas questions, looking between the man and the water. Surely Dean can't mean for Cas to undress and... no. Cas stops his thoughts there and shakes his head.

“Cas,” Dean says softly as he reaches forward to tug at the belt of Cas’ robe. “You stink.”

Cas takes a step back and his breath catches in his throat. He knows he stinks but the idea of undressing is impossible. Even in front of Dean, he could never. He shakes his head and tries to push Dean’s hands away from his waist. “No, Dean. No.”

“Cas,” Dean says again, his tone drawn out and tired. “Please, Cas. For you.” Dean points to the steaming water and then reaches for Cas once again.

Cas’ heart hammers and he shakes his head. “Dean, no.”

The idea of undressing in front of Dean, in front of anyone, only brings back the memories of Alastair’s hands digging into his hips and the terrible pain that followed. Dean wouldn’t do that to him, Cas is certain of that, but that does little to quell the instinctive fear bubbling low in his throat.

Dean’s hands grip Cas’ shoulders firmly and he pulls Cas toward the water. “Yes, Cas,” Dean says and Cas struggles against his grip with a whine of protest.

“No, Dean. Please, no,” Cas struggles harder but Dean’s hands are like iron around his arms. He pulls back and his foot snags on the edge of the tub, causing him to lose his balance and he tumbles backward.

Dean loses his grip and Cas falls, tripping over the edge of the tub and landing within. Cas’ robes immediately soak through and he sputters as he pushes himself up to face Dean. A smile twitches across Dean’s lips and he flushes crimson when Cas scowls angrily and tries to blow his sopping wet hair from his brow. “Wash, Cas,” Dean says as his cheeks redden further and then he turns to flee from the room before Cas can heave himself out of the tub or speak words of displeasure.

Cas sits in the tub and stares at the door with wide eyes long after Dean is gone.

His mind swims in confusion even as he curses his own stubbornness. Dean had been clear what he wanted of Cas and yet Castiel responded with mulish defiance.

Even as he sits, soaked through to his skin with his hair dripping into his face, he doesn’t understand why he felt the need to resist to the point where he tripped and fell into the water of his own clumsy accord.

Dean could have taken no for an answer and let him stew in his own filth a while longer, but Dean is every bit as stubborn as Castiel is. Even more so at times.

Now he’s drenched in the tub and Dean is gone.

Cas drops his head back to rest along the edge of the old barrel and groans even as his muscles begin to relax under the nearly too hot water.

He may as well take advantage of the situation.

His heart hammers as he undoes his belt the rest of the way. Dean’s tugging had nearly untied the thick rope, but it has swollen under the water and the remaining part of the knot is tricky to undo. He curses his stubbornness as he digs his fingertips into the center of the knot and tugs at the rope as best he can until his belt comes loose and unwraps itself from his waist.

Once the rope is undone, he drops his arms against the surface of the water and glares down at his sodden robes. They too must go but Cas’ lower lip juts out in annoyance as he considers the ramifications of being undressed entirely.

Eventually, seeing no way around it, Cas pulls his robe over his head and shoves it aside. A good soak won’t hurt it any.

For the first time in months, Cas looks down at his bare body. His lower half is obscured by the water, but Cas doesn’t need to see to know that the muscles of his thighs have grown more defined. For the initial weight he lost after being taken, he’s gained muscle in spades.

His chest is firm and broad where he was once slim and boney. His ribs are still visible, but they rest under a heavier layer of muscle from toiling in the gardens. The high protein diet Dean has been feeding him as led to a thickness in his arms that he is unfamiliar with and Cas stares in wonder.

Even to his own eyes, he looks good.

Healthy.

He reaches for the soap Dean had so thoughtfully left within reach and begins to scrub himself clean.

He doesn’t linger, but he takes careful note of the lack of fresh bruises other than those due to his own clumsiness and smiles slightly when his fingers brush over his more intimate places and find no lingering pain.

He seems well and truly healed.

He dips his head under the greying water and scrubs soap through his hair. The heat feels divine against his scalp and a happy shiver runs down his spine when the cooler air of the room chills his wet skin.

His soul warms with the thought that Dean meant for this to happen. Dean was trying to do something nice for him and this feels far more personal that the diligent care he’s been shown since Dean brought him to his chambers.

The better food and safe place to sleep could have been attributed to Dean’s guilt over the harm done to him, but this luxury is pure kindness and Cas feels his resolve strengthen and weaken at the same time.

He can no longer deny to himself that Dean has not only made amends, but he’s wormed his way into Castiel’s heart.

Once he deems himself clean, he pushes to his feet and casts his gaze about for a scrap of fabric to dry himself with. When his eyes land on the neatly laid out swatch of linen, he smiles warmly and scoops the blanket sized fabric up and wraps himself snugly under his arms and around his chest.

When he turns back to the tub, he frowns. His robes are completely saturated and in no condition to be worn.

He drags them out and scrubs the rough wool the best he can before wringing the excess water out by hand.

He chews his lip as his mind struggles with indecision.

He needs to wear something. Surely, Dean hadn’t intended to dunk him entirely into the repurposed barrel but the results remain the same.

Cas shakes out his robes and decides he should spread them out on the low chair in front of the fire to dry.

A small clatter catches his attention as he fluffs his still dripping clothes and his eyes catch on the iron band that he’s been carrying in his pocket these last weeks.

Dean’s symbol of possession.

He chews his lip hard enough to taste blood as he considers the hefty piece of metal and decides to leave it be for a moment.

A moment later and his robes cover the chair and droop to the floor around it, but that’s the best he can do.

He still stands almost nude in the middle of Dean’s room and he has no way of knowing when the man will return. Cas usually gives Dean an hour, so he suspects that Dean will do the same.

Which means he’s running out of time.

Heat sparks low in his stomach when he considers his available options.

Wear his very wet robes, steal some of Dean’s clothes, or be caught half bare.

His breath catches in his throat as he crosses the room to Dean’s carefully folded clothing. The ones that Cas himself folded only days ago.

He gathers the most worn items of Dean’s and prays that the man will not grow angry with him.

Dean is surely reasonable enough to see that Cas has little choice.

Dean’s pants fit his waist near perfectly, the thighs a little too snug, and they fall a tad too long over his bare feet. Overall, not a terrible fit and they’re the best he can do under the circumstances. The fabric feels strange against his legs since he has worn naught but his Monk’s robes since well before he came to be in Dean’s company but the feeling isn’t entirely unwelcome.

Dean’s soft linen shirt fits his shoulders and chest loosely, highlighting the difference between their bodies, but Cas finds the extra fabric to be comforting.

He finds himself smiling from the thrill of being dressed in Dean’s clothes before he scowls at his foolishness and shakes his head.

He is not some young maiden with a crush and he entirely blames his brothers for bringing those wayward thoughts to his attention.

Tendrils of desire and anticipation slowly coil in his gut as he pads his way back to the fire to hang up the now damp linen he had dried himself with and his gaze lands on the bracelet once again.

Cas chews his lip and his stomach swoops as he bends to pick up the unassuming piece of metal.

The broad side of it is decorated with Norse runes that he’s learned are symbols for strength and honor. Sam had explained how dear the iron band is to his brother and how upset Dean had been to discover Cas had thrown it away.

Little did either brother know that he’s kept it safe in his pocket since his poorly executed escape attempt, waiting for a way to return the simple thing to Dean without seeming foolish.

He had not anticipated that he would feel more guilt-ridden the longer he kept his secret but he hasn’t yet collected enough courage to face that battle. He half considers continuing on the easy route and tucking it back into his robes but the thought doesn’t quite sit right with him.

His brothers have been telling him to trust himself. To trust the warmth low in his stomach when he thinks about Dean and a growing part of him feels that perhaps he should.

Cas chews his lip as he thinks and a daring feeling begins to grow deep in his heart.

Dean won’t hurt him, Castiel knows this with every fiber of his being.

As Cas stares at the dull metal band he realizes that he no longer sees it as a sign of his doom. Not when Dean has proven himself to be a good man. Cas’ cheeks flush as he considers the implications of the idea he’s toying with.

Dean may want to possess him still but Cas would be lying if he claimed that thought to be distressing. His entire life, he has belonged to none other than God above and he craves to be selfish for once.

His skin itches with the need to feel a man’s touch as something more than a stolen moment that flirts with the edge of danger.

What if he lets himself have that?

Even if he is little more to Dean than a conquest, there is no one else that Cas would trust to touch him as he longs to be touched.

There is no one else Cas _wants _to be touched by.

He stares down at the band and fits it up against his wrist as he continues to abuse his lower lip. His stomach is alight with jitters and a half-smile begins to form when he considers what Dean might think.

Will Dean understand?

Fear of rejection stabs through his heart but Cas forces himself to be bold and he bends the metal to fit securely against his skin.

There will be no going back after this and he only hopes that Dean will give of himself in return.

He sets about emptying the barrel and ignores the many arched brows and puzzled looks of those who see him in the hall. His cheeks heat with their open stares and interested expressions but he repeatedly tells himself that he has nothing to be ashamed of.

He’s merely changed his clothes as most of his brothers have long since done.

He has done nothing wrong.

Eventually, the barrel is empty and Dean still hasn’t returned. Cas checks his robes and finds them still sodden but making progress.

He considers the heavy and dark fabric with mixed emotions until the rattle of the door latch has his heart lodging in his throat and his heart sets to racing.

Cas jerks away from his robes and steps to the center of the room. He tries to stand still but his entire body is alight with excited terror, all the way down to the soles of his bare feet.

He feels naked and exposed, wearing Dean’s clothes, and the band around his wrist feels heavy and impossible to ignore in his nervous state.

Dean pushes through the door and his eyes widen comically when his gaze finds Cas standing in the middle of the large room.

“Cas,” Dean says, his voice little more than a croak as the door falls closed behind him. Dean crosses the space quickly and his eyes scan Cas from head to toe and back again while Castiel holds his breath.

“Dean?” Cas takes a half step back out of nervousness when Dean crowds into his space. Dean’s expression is unreadable and for a moment, Cas thinks he’s made a dire mistake.

“Cas,” Dean says again with a sort of reverence in his tone. “Beautiful.” He finally meets Cas’ eyes, a clash of green meeting blue and Cas finds himself frozen under the force of Dean’s stare. Dean’s fingers stroke down Cas’ cheek with a feather-light touch and Cas lets himself lean into those tentative fingertips even as he lifts his hand to catch Dean’s wrist in a gentle hold.

The loose sleeve of Cas’ borrowed shirt slides up his forearm and Dean’s gaze shifts downward. His breath catches at the sight of the band around Cas’ wrist and his heart stutters at the hungry expression that immediately clouds Dean’s expression.

“You...” Dean starts to say but his words trail away as he lifts his free hand to trace the edge of the iron band on Cas’ wrist.

“I didn’t...I kept it,” Cas says, his voice stammering as his tongue trips over itself.

“All this time?” Dean says in a voice full of awed wonder.

Cas sucks in a sharp breath and nods, willing himself to stand strong. His throat feels dry and hollow as his heart races, standing on the edge of a precipice simply waiting to fall.

Dean’s gaze fixes on Cas’ expression and his green eyes search for a hidden answer before going soft. A gentle smile curls on his lips and he ducks his chin before once again meeting Cas’ eyes. “Please, Cas,” Dean says so softly that Cas can barely hear the doubt in Dean’s tone. “Be mine?”

Dean hasn’t made a demand, Cas can see the doubt-filled desire written in Dean’s gaze and it warms him to his core. Dean isn’t asking to own him. Not anymore. This is something different, something deeper. Cas licks his lips and swallows hard. Dean tracks the motion intently and his eyes blow wide as Cas steps further into Dean’s space.

Cas gives a minute nod and sucks in a sharp breath. “Yours,” He says, his voice a sheer whisper as the word barely leaves his mouth.

Dean’s fingers return to the sharp edge of Castiel’s jaw and Cas’ eyes slide closed at the touch. His stomach flutters pleasantly with anticipation but he remains still. “Please,” Dean whispers.

“What, Dean?” Cas answers and swallows hard around the knot in his throat that keeps him from humming at Dean’s tender touch.

“Tell me you’re not teasing,” Dean says and Cas’ eyes open when he feels the press of Dean’s brow to his own. Dean’s voice sounds small and unsure but Cas doesn’t know the word _teasing_.

Cas sucks in a breath and nods anyway, hoping that his intention isn’t misunderstood.

Dean draws back and pinches a frown, making Cas’ heart stutter for an entirely different reason but then Dean’s lips are on his and Cas’ mind sputters to a halt.

Dean becomes all that Cas is aware of, his plush lips, the gentle scrape of Dean’s short beard, the gentle way his fingers cup Cas’ jaw and tangle on the short hairs at the back of his head. Time seems to stall as Cas’ lips move of their own accord, brushing against Dean’s tenderly as his hands fist the front of Dean’s shirt.

His mind somersaults and reels at the feeling of Dean holding him so tenderly, consuming him and he can’t help the sudden tension that has his shoulders drawing back and his spine stiffening when he remembers that he needs to be cautious.

Dean notices his hesitation almost immediately and whimpers with regret as he tries to pull back, but Cas holds on tightly, keeping Dean close.

“Dean,” Cas gasps against the man’s lips and the tension quickly bleeds from his body as he reminds himself that he wants this, Dean wants this.

Their hesitant kiss ignited a craving deep within and he craves more of the taste of Dean’s lips on his. He meets Dean’s gaze with wide eyes and he stares with parted lips and his stomach swoops before giving a faint nod of permission.

Dean caught him by surprise, but now he’s prepared and his stomach aches with how deeply he wants this.

Dean groans roughly as he cups Cas’ jaw and dives back in, their lips move steadily against one another and Cas feels himself floating with excitement. He holds Dean tightly, refusing to leave more than an inch between them and he whimpers for more.

Dean does nothing to discourage Castiel’s grip. Instead, he drags him closer and his hands begin to skate over Cas shoulders and down his sides before caressing over his hips.

Fear lurches in his stomach and his heart patters wildly when Dean’s fingers flex and seek to pull him ever closer. Cas pulls back with a jolt and covers his face with his hands in shame over the sudden panic that has his lungs nearly frozen with dread.

Dean will not hurt him. He forces himself to repeat in his mind like a mantra as he clenches his fists and slams his eyes shut to catch his breath. This was going so well and he ruined it with his senseless fear.

“Cas?” Dean asks, still reaching out but not taking a step to pursue Castiel.

“I... I can’t. Too much,” Cas tries to say but tears threaten to clog his voice. He rests a hand over his heart as he tries to slow his breathing and rein himself in.

This blind panic is unnecessary and unwelcome.

“You won’t hurt me,” Cas says, trying to convince his racing heart of the fact even as his logic and reasoning _knows_ his words are true.

“I promise,” Dean answers.

Cas pries his eyes open and forces himself to look at Dean. The man’s features are twisted with the beginning edge of rejection and Cas can barely stand to see so much doubt swimming in those green eyes. Cas shakes his head and wraps his arms over his chest. “I’m sorry,” He whispers as he drops his gaze.

Dean forces a shrug. “S’ok,” Dean mutters quietly and Cas feels a sharp jolt of worry erupt in his stomach.

“No. No no no. Dean. No.” Cas pleads as he rushes forward to grasp Dean’s hand. “You don’t understand.”

Dean frowns and pulls his hand away as he turns toward the door without meeting Cas’ gaze. “Sleep, Cas.”

“Dean, stop!” Cas demands and the man stiffens. Cas takes advantage of Dean’s temporary surprise and rushes to block his exit. “I want you, Dean.” He grasps Dean by the shoulders and forces him to look. Self-loathing writhes in his stomach as he tastes the words that he knows he needs to say no matter how weak they make him feel. “I want you, but I am afraid,” Cas says in a rush.

Dean’s brow furrows but he allows Cas to hold his hands firmly as he searches Cas’ expression for honesty. “You are afraid. Of me?” Dean’s tone is pained and guilt threatens to consume Castiel for being the cause.

Cas shakes his head and his lips twist into a wry smile. “Not you. Me.” Cas steps closer and narrowly resists pressing his cheek against the man’s chest as his arms drift around his waist. He wants little more than to lean against Dean and seek refuge in his embrace but he needs him to understand. “After Alastair...”

Cas isn’t allowed to finish that thought.

Dean’s strong arms wrap around him and drag him flush to Dean’s body. Cas gets his wish of sagging against Dean’s body and he lets out a heavy breath. “I would never,” Dean says and Cas can feel his warm breath tickling his damp hair. “I want you, all of you, but not unless you want me too.”

“I know,” Cas mumbles. Dean is a good man and Cas knows with all his being that he would never hurt someone the way Alastair hurt him. “Just...I need, slow?” Cas doesn’t know the right word. The one that asks for patience but he thinks Dean understands anyway.

“Yes. Cas. Yes,” Dean says as he peppers small kisses atop Cas’ hair and tightens his arms around Cas’ shoulders. “Anything.”

They stand wrapped around each other for several long moments and Cas basks in the safe warmth of Dean’s hold. He can barely remember how hot his hatred of Dean had glowed in the beginning through the comfort he finds now.

“Come, Cas,” Dean eventually whispers and Cas’ heart stutters when Dean loosens his hold to guide Cas toward his wide bed. “Sleep here, with me?”

Cas chews his lips and eyes the bed cautiously as his feet remain planted on the floor. He thought Dean understood when he said slow, but perhaps he had chosen the wrong word after all. He looks at Dean and then to his next of furs on the floor, trying to decide.

“Only sleep. Promise. I want to be close to you. Let me hold you?” Dean asks after a rush of words. His gaze is earnest, if not a bit nervous and Cas gives him a jerky nod that causes a broad smile to spread over Dean’s features.

Dean leans forward to catch Cas’ lips in a gentle kiss, a mere taste before he draws back the soft furs and nudges Cas forward.

Cas sucks in a tense breath but he forces himself to go as directed. The bed is soft, so soft, underneath him and he hums with pleasure as he settles into one side of the large mattress.

His heart thuds in his chest so profoundly that he can feel it in his ears as Dean strips his worn shirt over his head and gathers a clean one. He tries not to look at the firm expanse of muscle on display for a short time but his gaze is drawn to Dean nonetheless.

The quiet in the room is deafening as Cas lets out a shaky breath. He had not known what to expect of opening himself to Dean but sharing the man’s bed so soon was not on the list of possibilities.

A dozen questions race through his mind, the most pointed of which is what happens next?

Dean blows out the flickering lamps in the room while Cas quietly resists succumbing to his doubts. Eventually, Dean climbs under the covers and encourages Cas to roll onto his side away from him.

Cas goes reluctantly but melts when Dean wraps a strong arm around his stomach to draw Cas’ back tight against his chest and Dean nuzzles his nose in the crook Cas’ neck with a pleased sigh.

Cas stifles a ticklish laugh at the puff of warm breath against his ear and he can feel Dean’s smile through the gentle kiss he places on the skin to the be found there.

Dean is warm behind him, pressed against Cas from shoulders to knees and Cas silently curses his stubbornness. How he had managed to not notice how much he wanted this, needed this, is beyond his understanding.

“Just this, Cas. Sleep,” Dean whispers in the dark, his hand drifts upward to rest lightly on Cas’ chest over his pounding heart as if to soothe away the last of Castiel’s worries.

The feeling of someone so close is strange and foreign and yet the sensation is somehow comforting.

Cas lets himself sink into that comfort and allows his eyes to slide closed while his mind wanders. The taste of Dean’s lips against his own is everything he thought it would be and this deliberate contact has his stomach roiling at a slow simmer of delight. The warmth that has been building in his heart for weeks is intensified by the excited jitters in his stomach.

Samandriel and Ephraim were right. Castiel can see that clearly now. Despite his fears, letting himself have this, have Dean, fills him with a sense of peace that he had not realized was missing.

He leans back and snuggles into Dean’s hold, confident that the man will do nothing more than hold him safe and warm through the night.

Slowly, he lets himself drift away from the waking world and the last thing he feels before sleep claims him is the gentle press of plush lips to the nape of his neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... FINALLY, right?!


	14. The Trial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ruby and Lilith stand trial for their crimes, but little goes according to plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for graphic violence and minor character deaths. Proceed into Ruby and Lilith's punishment with caution if you're troubled by such things.

Dean rolls onto his back and stretches his arms high above his head with a satisfied yawn before he reaches for Cas, only to find the space next to him cold. After a week of waking up with Cas in his arms, the empty space next to him feels troublingly large and Dean’s heart tries valiantly not to assume the worst.

The reasonable side of him promises that Cas has good reason to be out of bed at this ridiculous hour but his pessimistic side claims that Cas has already tired of waking up tangled with Dean’s sprawling limbs and has abandoned him.

Dean shakes off the gloomy thoughts and reminds himself of the soft smiles and gentle hums that Cas graces him with each time Dean presses their lips together or the way he moans when Dean trails kisses over his cheeks and down the long column of his throat.

Heat pools low in his stomach and his cock gives an interested twitch when he remembers the incredible sight of Cas panting beside him with kiss swollen lips, the blue of his eyes nearly eclipsed with desire.

He’s been careful to not push beyond the above the waist and over the clothes touches that Cas welcomes and the deep kisses that have Dean’s entire body tingling with happiness.

As much as Dean would love to feel Cas’ bare skin beneath his hands and revel in the pleasures that he knows they could share, he promised that he would be patient.

Dean is not good at being patient, but for Cas? He’ll wait an eternity if he must.

Which, given his absence from their bed, might be the wait Dean is in store for.

He groans as he presses his head back into his pillow and stares up at the darkened ceiling.

The fact that Cas kept the band he had fought so hard against and _chose_ to wear it once more must mean that Cas feels something for him, but Dean is afraid to ask.

He might just crumble into a thousand tiny pieces if he were to learn that Cas is only allowing this new closeness because he feels obligated or is trying to use him.

Dean’s heart wouldn’t be able to take the rejection or the corresponding guilt that would surely swallow him whole.

Sam and Gabriel have told him that his worries are for naught. Both of them had cackled and clapped Cas on the back as soon as he and Dean entered Sam’s room the morning after their first kisses. Somehow, they knew, and Dean felt a confusing mixture of proud and embarrassed.

Later, when Cas was elsewhere and he expressed his concerns, Gabriel had swatted him upside the head and scowled while Sam assured him that Cas does care about him, but Dean finds himself in a constant state of doubt.

Perhaps if Cas were to begin initiating kisses or if he would simply touch Dean rather than waiting for Dean to draw him close…

Three raps sound on his door, interrupting his cycling thoughts and he rolls out of bed with a groan as he reaches for his flint to light the lamps in the same motion. “Who is it?” He calls out through a yawn.

“Gabriel! Open up!” Gabe’s voice drifts easily through the door and Dean groans. The short and brash monk is not the first person Dean wants to see when he wakes.

Dean grumbles to himself as he crosses the room and unlatches the door. He doesn’t bother opening it before turning away to continue lighting the lamps in the room.

Gabriel pushes through the door almost the instant the latch comes undone and stalks to where Dean is fussing with the light on his table.

He meets Gabriel’s honey-brown eyes with hesitation, entirely unwilling to bear the brunt of the man’s humor this early in the morning. “Cas isn’t here.”

“I know that, Dean-o. I wanted to talk to you,” Gabe says lightly as he pushes past Dean and plops his rear on the top of Dean’s table. “How’s my baby bro been?”

Dean rolls his eyes and covers his yawn. “You talked to him last night. How much do you think has changed between now and then?”

Gabe huffs and folds his arms over his chest. “I dunno, you tell me. I saw him rushing out to the garden this morning like he was angry at the world. I wanna know what you did to him.”

Dean arches a brow even as his stomach knots with worry. “Nothing. I didn’t do anything.”

“Uh-huh,” Gabriel says, his gaze betraying his doubts.

“I should go find him,” Dean says, already striding across the room to find fresh clothes.

“Nuh-uh,” Gabe disagrees as he hops off the table to block Dean’s path. “I know the look I saw on his face. If he’s not upset with you, then he’s upset with himself. Let me handle it.” Gabriel turns to go but Dean stops him with a firm grip on the man’s arm.

“Gabriel. I want to help him,” Dean says and Gabe narrows his eyes dangerously.

“You can’t, Dean-o. You don’t understand our language, our ways, or how difficult being with _you_ is for him,” Gabe jerks his arm from Dean grasp and shakes his head sadly. “Leave him alone.”

“Gabriel,” Dean says, his voice a weak plea. Gabriel’s words cut deep and leave him wounded. Dean searches Gabe’s expression and comes to a heart-shattering conclusion. “He doesn’t want this, does he? He’s just trying to give me what he thinks I want from him.”

Gabe snorts and shakes his head. “You know, you two idiots deserve each other. I swear,” Gabe mutters darkly before letting out a heavy sigh. “I’ll talk to him. You deal with Samuel, he’s already on a tear this morning.” Gabe points to the center of Dean’s chest and rolls his eyes.

Dean folds his arms and glares. “You’re giving me orders now?” Dean arches a brow and waits.

Gabriel straightens to his full height, which still puts him significantly shorter than Dean, and crosses his arms over his chest. “Damn right I am. We can’t all just be a pretty face, someone has to keep this shit show together.”

Gabe takes a deep breath and shakes his head at Dean’s unimpressed expression. “Just give him space. You don’t know him like I do.” Gabe pats Dean’s arm and turns to walk away, slamming the door behind him as he goes.

Dean stands frozen in the middle of his room, a heavy stone sitting low in a gut as he mulls over Gabriel’s words.

Cas is upset.

Because of Dean most likely.

He lets out a heavy sigh and shakes his head.

He can never seem to do the right thing when it comes to Cas and he’s certain that Cas will see that soon enough if he hasn’t already.

What hope can he have to give Cas what he needs to be happy?

He never should have brought him here in the first place.

He shouldn’t have brought any of the monks here.

He hangs his head and shuts his eyes tightly as his spirits sink into his toes.

He cannot undo the past.

With that thought, he sucks in a cleansing breath and draws his shoulders back. There is nowhere to go but forward and right now he needs to report to Samuel.

Lilith and Ruby are to be sentenced this morning for their conspiracy to overthrow Jarl Samuel and murder Dean and Sam, if Gabriel is correct, Dean does not want to risk being late to his father’s table.

Unfortunately, neither of the traitorous women would admit what Dean is certain of, that Asmodeus and Azazel are behind their scheme. He hopes to draw the truth out of them today, but he’ll be surprised if they speak.

Dean lets out a heavy sigh as he dresses in his nicer clothes. Their trial will be short and since they are women, their punishment will likely be banishment.

Dean would rather see Ruby’s head roll for what she did to Sam, but it is not his decision to make.

By the time he finally steps out of his room and makes his way to the great hall, his stomach is in knots. The entirety of the village will be there and Dean will be required to stand by his father’s side as the trial proceeds.

“Dean, you’re late,” Samuel says with narrowed eyes as he pushes through the heavy door.

“Apologies, sir.” Dean ducks his gaze respectfully as he comes to a stop in front of Samuel’s table.

The Jarl is still picking at his breakfast with his own personal slave standing at attention behind him. Virgil seems to be doing well since his reassignment but he is not one that is prone to conversation. Even Gabriel has trouble getting words out of the man.

Cas had once told him that Virgil is as cold-hearted as they come and nearly as self-serving and Dean is apt to believe him, but that does not change the promise he made to keep the monks as safe from harm as he can.

Still, Dean doesn’t trust him. Especially not after what Balthazar had confessed.

When they first arrived, Virgil was assigned to the barracks of bachelors who are also some of Dean’s best warriors. He did not last long there before Asmodeus scooped him up and now he’s serving the Jarl?

No, Dean does not trust him but he has little choice.

“Sit. Eat. I doubt your monk bothered to bring you a proper breakfast,” Samuel says with a grumble and a cross look. “You’re too soft on him. He’ll never learn to be a good thrall if you keep coddling him.”

“Father, please.” Dean takes the offered seat and does his absolute best to not roll his eyes. He has no interest in beating Cas into submission as Samuel would. “He knows his place.” _And his place is at Dean’s side, not at his feet._

Dean’s eyes widen fractionally at the wayward thought but that is something to consider later. For now, he needs to stay focused on the task at hand. He picks up a hunk of dried meat and chews slowly to buy himself as much time as possible.

Soon, the doors will be opened to everyone in the village to observe the trial. Dean expects the space to grow crowded and he does not enjoy being his father’s puppet in these matters.

Samuel huffs but doesn’t bother commenting. “Ruby and Lilith then. You think they acted alone?” Samuel arches a brow and fixes Dean with a firm stare.

“I know they didn’t,” Dean says with a roll of his eyes. Samuel knows just as well as Dean who the master behind the plot to destroy their family’s rule is.

“But what can we prove, Dean? What else have you found?” Samuel’s tone carries a hard edge as if he is preemptively disappointed that Dean isn’t a sorcerer capable of pulling the truth from the void.

Dean sighs and shakes his head. “Not enough.”

“I am disappointed in you,” Samuel says plainly and Dean tries his best to imagine a twinge of surprise in his tone, but try as he might, he fails.

Dean chews the inside of his cheek in an attempt to hold back his retort. He’s never had a chance of making Samuel proud. Such pride is reserved for true sons, not adopted bastards.

Dean is only lucky that Samuel saw enough in him to give him a home and a future.

“Apologies, sir,” Dean says quietly, duly chastised.

He’s done the best he can, but his best will never be enough.

“Very well. Open the doors. I wish to get this nasty business out of the way as quickly as possible,” Samuel says as he gestures for Virgil to take away the remains of his breakfast as he waves Dean toward the wide double doors that will open the hall to the village.

Dean slides smoothly from his seat and crosses the room without a word.

He hopes that Cas doesn’t come for this. He cannot bear to see the pain that is reflected in those bottomless eyes each time he lays witness to the violence of the Norse culture.

Cas is made of gentler things than the harsh northern winds.

“Benny.” Dean smiles when he sees his friend standing directly on the other side of the door.

“I told your boy not to come,” Benny says as he claps Dean’s shoulder and crosses through the now open entry. “Gabe is going to give him a sparring lesson in Sam’s room.”

Dean nods and gives Benny a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

“Just breathe, brother. All will be well.” Benny walks with Dean to retake his place at Samuel’s side and Benny takes up his place to Dean’s right. He will move over a step when Sam arrives, but for now, he’ll stand with Dean.

“I hope you’re right,” Dean says softly as they wait. Samuel doesn’t speak a word while people file in. Soon, the large room is teeming with people.

People including Asmodeus and Azazel.

In the front row.

After what feels like an eternity and with Dean shifting uncomfortably on his feet as he endures his uncle’s hostile glare, the back doors open and Benny steps from Dean’s side to assist Sam in bringing in the accused.

Ruby and Lilith’s clothes are rumbled and their faces smudged with dirt after their week of interrogation and imprisonment but they hold themselves proudly.

Not for the first time, Dean is glad that Cas had gone to spar with Gabriel while Dean and Benny imprisoned the scheming women.

Dean has Cas to thank for the discovery of their plot and he’s certain that Cas feels he is to blame for the punishment that awaits them.

Try as he might, Dean doesn’t understand the Christian hesitancy toward justice.

When Dean had tried to explain, Cas had bandied around words Dean didn’t understand, his tone sounding as if seeking retribution was a crime. In a fit of confusion, Dean had silenced Cas’ argument with a needy kiss and the two lost track of time entwined with one another.

Until Dean had let his hand slip under the hem of Cas’ borrowed shirt to feel the warm skin underneath and Cas had tumbled away with wide eyes and heaving breaths.

When Dean reached for him, Cas had flinched away with apologies on his lips that tore Dean’s heart to shreds.

He jerks himself out of his thoughts and catches his brother’s eye. His grip on Ruby’s arm looks to be bruising as he leads her forward and Dean can’t blame him.

Despite Dean’s warnings, Sam cared for her. Maybe he still does, but even that isn’t enough for him to defend her actions.

Not when Cas had heard her plotting to murder Sam.

Of course, Cas’ word counts for nothing to the Jarl but Dean and Benny believe him wholeheartedly. Enough so for Benny to lie and say that he heard every word Cas had relayed to him.

Benny’s testimony will be damning.

“Attention!” Dean barks, silencing the gathered crowd once Ruby and Lilith are shoved to their knees in front of the Jarl’s great chair. Dean takes a half step forward as he calls for the trial to begin and his heart races in excitement.

Lilith’s advances had always been easy to ignore before he left for the raid this spring, but her persistent aggression toward Cas since their return has been enough for him to wish her gone. To think she had been intended to seduce him is laughable. She is beautiful, Dean will allow that, but she is nothing compared to Cas.

“Ruby and Lilith. You stand accused of conspiracy to commit murder and undermine my rule. What say you?” Samuel begins to speak and the gathered crowd falls silent.

Dean’s eyes narrow and scan the members of the village. Most appear to be in attendance, which is good. Treason cannot be allowed to stand.

The kneeling women sit up straighter and lift their chins. “We only wish the best for our people,” Ruby says without a hint of regret.

“So, you admit to planning to murder my heirs?” Samuel says, his tone flat and almost bored.

Lilith squares her shoulders and glances at her sister. As a thrall, especially since her servitude is punishment for her prior crimes, Lilith’s words mean little even in her own defense.

Ruby exchanges a brief look with Lilith, and Dean can see their silent conversation and  
Lilith’s resulting frustration.

He would be willing to bet that Lilith is the mastermind between the two, following Asmodeus’ orders most likely.

“We admit to plotting what must be done to ensure good fortune for the people of Laugar. We should not be ruled by a Saxon bastard, no matter if you decree him your heir.” Ruby spits on the ground when she finishes speaking and glares at Dean.

Dean sucks in a harsh breath and carefully keeps his expression as blank as he can, but Lilith’s smirk tells him he didn’t do well enough to hide his surprise.

“My sons are as Norse as the rest of you,” Samuel says bluntly, his tone seething with impatience. “You admit that you were scheming to commit murder and the offense shall not stand. Banishment will do little to curb your bloodthirsty desires, therefore I sentence you both to die under the ax.”

Dean stiffens and glances at the Jarl with wide eyes. Condemning the women to die is unprecedented. They failed in their plot, their punishment should be banishment. Samuel hadn’t even allowed Benny’s testimony.

“Allow me to send a clear message. I will not tolerate any more questions about the parentage of my sons. They are my blood and that is enough. Ruby, Lilith. You will die at nightfall. Dean, prepare for their execution.” Samuel rises from his seat and gestures to have the women removed from his sight.

Ruby’s eyes are wide and her complexion has gone so pale that her chestnut hair appears black by comparison and Dean is satisfied to see fine tremors coursing through her body. Lilith’s bright eyes are narrowed in rage but she smirks at Dean as Benny prods her past him.

Azazel shouts in outrage but Dean doesn’t spare him a glance. Azazel’s opinion matters little in the face of the Jarl’s demand.

Dean’s stomach plummets at the thought of what he must do. As heir, it is his duty to carry out Samuel’s justice no matter how harsh his rule might be. Dean lifts his gaze to scan the gathered crowd once more. He would like little more than to retreat to his chamber and spend the remainder of the day hidden away with Cas.

Ruby’s words of his parentage rub Dean terribly wrong and bring back memories of his earliest days amongst the Northmen. The days when he and Sam were inherently treated as less.

Dean will never live up to anyone’s expectations.

Not Samuel’s, not the people of Laugar, and certainly not Cas.

His gaze flits over everyone, noting some shock and surprise on their faces and more than a little anger scattered about. When his eyes catch on cerulean blue, his heart seems to stop and he swallows hard.

Cas’ jaw is clenched and his gaze bores into Dean with the force of a thousand suns.

Dean dips his chin in acknowledgment, but Cas isn’t supposed to be here. Gabriel, Ezekiel, Gadreel, and Samandriel stand with him in the back. None of them were supposed to be here but surely, they heard every word.

Dean’s stomach drops at the thought but he doesn’t have time to dwell on what Cas might think of him now that he knows that Dean was a Saxon and he still stole them from their home.

Cas will hate him.

Dean turns away to follow behind Benny and Sam. He has much to prepare and Samuel is the last person he wishes to see.

Benny emerges from the cell behind Sam and Dean can tell his brother is struggling.

“Sam,” Dean says as he reaches his hand out to grasp Sam’s arm.

“I need to see Gabe.” Sam waves him off and pulls away before Dean can say anything more.

He watches Sam retreat down the quiet hall and Dean hopes that Gabriel is waiting for him in his chamber. Somehow, Sam and the brash monk have become close friends and Sam needs a friend right now.

Tonight, he will stand witness to the execution of his first love.

Dean cannot imagine if he had to watch Sam cleave Cas’s head from his shoulders as Dean will do to Ruby later.

“He’ll be alright, brother,” Benny says as he gives Dean a nod.

Dean shakes his head. “Cas was there, Benny. I thought you told him not to come.”

Benny sighs as his lip curls in a wry smile. “Cas ain’t never been good at followin orders, you know that.”

Dean huffs. “Stubborn Christian,” Dean mutters darkly even as he shakes his head fondly.

Almost as if summoned by the fates, Dean glances up to see Cas walking toward him. He ducks his chin and Benny claps him on the shoulder in solidarity.

“I’ll make sure the axes are sharp and the village center is cleared out. Don’t worry about a thing, brother.” Benny nods as he steps away from Dean’s side. “Cas.” He dips his chin in greeting even as he turns to go.

Dean’s heart lodges in his throat when Benny walks away, leaving him alone to face Cas’ judgment.

“Dean,” Cas says before sucking in a heavy breath. “You will murder them.” His tone is unreadable and his hands fisted at his sides as he stares into Dean’s eyes.

Dean frowns and his throat goes dry as his stomach twists uncomfortably. Finally, he swallows hard and nods. “I must take justice.”

Cas pinches a frown and tilts his head as he studies Dean’s expression. For a moment, Dean thinks that Cas doesn’t understand but then Cas gives him a jerky nod. “They want you dead. Sam dead.”

Dean nods, wondering what Cas is trying to say. “You and Gabriel too,” Dean whispers and darkness flashes in Cas’ eyes.

Cas steps into his space and Dean’s gaze jerks upward in surprise. Those brilliant blue eyes hold him transfixed and Dean feels powerless to breathe. He could wilt under that stare but he cannot bring himself to move, let alone back down.

Finally, Cas nods. “Then they die.”

Dean swallows hard and his eyes blink rapidly in surprise before he nods.

Cas reaches out to take Dean’s hand and their fingers lace together easily. “Are you okay?” Cas asks softly and Dean nods around his disbelieving huff.

“I am.” Dean squeezes Cas’ hand and tugs him closer. The dread in his stomach lightens when Cas leans his cheek on Dean’s shoulder and wraps his arms around his back. “Are you?”

After a moment, Cas draws back with a nod and Dean lets him go entirely. He doesn’t need to be seen cuddling the monk in the middle of the longhouse. Samuel would not be pleased.

Cas blinks tiredly and lets out a sad sigh. “I have work,” He says softly and Dean nods.

“I don’t want you to watch, Cas,” Dean whispers as he strokes a finger over the arch of Cas’ cheek. “Promise me.”

Cas nods as he swallows hard. “I promise,” Cas says thickly. “I will be in Sam’s room with Gabriel.”

Dean thanks Odin that for once, Cas obeys without protest. He glances around to make sure they’re alone before he takes Cas’ hand and kisses the pad of each finger tenderly while Cas watches him with a fond smile.

Cas looks at Dean with a gaze so soft that Dean squirms under the attention. “You are my righteous man,” Cas whispers in his native tongue.

Butterflies swarm in Dean’s gut as he pieces together the few words he knows of Cas’ language. Dean could fly over the moon with giddy delight.

Dean tamps down his excitement and nods as he squeezes Cas’ hand. “Yours,” Dean rasps and he knows he isn’t imagining the way Cas’ eyes darken.

“Ugh, you two are disgusting,” Gabriel’s voice comes from down the hall and Cas takes a quick step away from Dean as they turn toward Gabe with wide eyes. “Don’t stop on my account.”

Dean sighs and shakes his head as he takes in Gabe’s wagging brows. “Don’t,” Dean holds up a finger to Gabe as he watches Cas flush crimson beside him.

Dean swears that if Gabe makes Cas ashamed of the tenderness between them, he will strangle the man.

No matter how Sam might protest.

Gabe rolls his eyes and ends up staring at Cas. “Cassie, a little birdie told me that someone needs to speak with you.”

Cas tilts his head in that adorable way that melts Dean’s heart as he regards his brother. “Who?”

“That’s for me to know and you to discover.” Gabe smiles sweetly and Dean wants to punch that little smirk off his face for the way Cas purses his lips.

“Dean?” Cas turns to him and arches a brow in question.

Dean nearly chokes when he realizes that Cas is essentially _asking_ permission and he hurriedly nods. “Don’t need to ask, Cas,” Dean says, nearly stumbling over his words.

Gabe smirks at Dean before turning to Cas. “Told you,” Gabe quips and Dean’s jaw clenches. “Oh Dean-o, don’t pretend you don’t love him,” Gabe says and Cas flushes crimson and snags his brother’s elbow to drag him away before Dean can do anything but squawk with surprise.

“Gabriel!” Cas exclaims as he drags his brother away from Dean. He shoots a look over his shoulder that screams apology when he meets Dean’s gaze.

Dean forces himself to smile through the heat coloring his cheeks and gives Cas a little wave.

Gabriel isn’t wrong.

Gabriel cackles with laughter as he drags Cas along and ignores his protests.

Dean watches them go, almost as grateful for Gabriel as he is annoyed with his impudence. Gabe is a scamp, but he’s a good man. Good for Cas, good for Sam. And that is not an admission that Dean takes lightly.

From the moment they met, Gabriel has been an asset.

The most infuriating, obnoxious, and crude asset Dean has ever had.

\---

*Castiel*

“Gabriel, where are we going?” Cas questions as Gabe takes the lead. He wishes his brother wouldn’t provoke Dean but he cannot deny he enjoys seeing the blush that colors Dean’s cheeks when Gabe says something particularly terrible.

Gabe shrugs and continues walking. “I think it’s time we pay Marv a visit.”

Cas stops and his jaw drops open as he stares after his brother. “Wha…why?” He has no desire to have anything to do with Metatron.

Gabriel turns on him with a glare. “He’s up to something and I intend to find out what.”

Cas swallows hard and shakes his head. “What does that have to do with me?” His insides squirm with guilt as a flash of hurt flutters across Gabriel’s features.

He stomps over to where Cas is standing and jabs a finger at the ground. “Because you have as much to lose as I do. As Zeke does. Hell, even Balthazar. We’re in this together, Castiel.”

Cas swallows hard and nods as he unpacks Gabriel’s words. “You’re certain he’s working with Asmodeus.” Cas doesn’t ask. He knows. He barely represses his shudder when he thinks how power-hungry his brother must be to work with someone so vile. He’s never fully trusted Metatron, but he never expected outright betrayal.

“Balt said he’s certain of it.” And for as irreverent as Balthazar can be, he would not lie about such things. Gabriel folds his arms over his chest as he waits Castiel out.

Cas swallows hard with a nod. “Very well. What do you suggest?” The warmth in his chest from seeing Dean only a few moments ago evaporates when Gabe’s expression turns grim.

“First, we talk to him.” Gabe turns around and starts walking, giving Cas the clear choice to follow.

Cas nods and jogs to catch up. “And if he doesn’t listen?”

“Then we fight back,” Gabriel says without leaving any room for doubt as he makes his way to the smaller longhouse belonging to Azazel.

Marv is waiting for them with a sly grin as they go around to the back. His short arms are folded over his chest and Cas’ fists clench with the urge to punch the smug look off his face.

“Metatron,” Gabriel says sweetly as he places a hand over his heart in greet. “It is good to see you, brother.”

Marv snorts and shakes his head. “Save it, Gabriel.” His beady gaze flits to Cas and his sickening smile grows. “I see you’ve brought Dean’s little lapdog to defend you?” He arches a brow at Gabe and shakes his head sadly.

“I am not…” Cas starts but Gabriel silences him with a firm hand on his shoulder and a nudge backward.

“Are the rumors true?” Gabriel questions, keeping his tone carefully blank.

Metatron shrugs. “That I’ve done more to ensure our freedom than anyone else? Of course, they’re true. Unlike you, I’ve chosen the winning side. We’ll be free soon. Powerful.” He pauses as he turns to stare through Castiel. “Tell me, Cassie, what have you done other than bend over for your master?”

Cas growls low in his throat and steps forward, determined to wipe the smirk from Marv’s face but Gabriel holds him back.

“So the rumors of your betrayal are true.” Gabriel shakes his head and his tone holds a layer of resignation that Castiel has never heard from his brother.

“It isn’t too late for the two of you. Give me your allegiance and you’ll be spared.” Metatron takes a step forward, his expression a mockery of concern.

Cas’ brow furrows and he takes a step back as bile rises in his throat. Gadreel was right, Marv is beyond redemption. “My allegiance is with Dean.”

Marv laughs, a sickening sound that sends a chill down Castiel’s spine. “That welp? Cassie, I had hoped for better from you after what happened with Alastair.”

Cas gasps and Gabriel grasps his arm to keep him from backing away.

Gabe huffs and shakes his head. “You thought Cas would side with the family that attacked him? You’re deranged, and you will die for your treason.” Gabriel’s words are laced with venom that makes Cas’ blood run cold.

He’s known that Gabriel was once as cold and battle-hardened as the family he was raised with, but he left all that behind when he joined their brotherhood, Cas has never seen the extent of Gabriel’s ability and he fears that he soon will. “Gabe, we should go. There is nothing to gain here,” Cas whispers and looks at his brother with a plea written in his gaze.

Metatron laughs. “Die if you wish, brothers. Your fates matter little.”

Gabriel scowls and takes a menacing step forward. “You are no brother of ours.” He spits on the ground before turning and storming away with Cas following on his heels as Marv chuckles darkly.

“What now, Gabe?” Cas asks breathlessly as he hurries to keep up. For being shorter, Gabriel can be quick when he wants to be.

“We gather our brothers, make a plan.” Gabe stops and spins to face Castiel. “Tell me, Cassie, are you ready for a real fight?”

Cas sucks in a breath through his nose and gives a shaky nod. He will fight for Dean, for Sam, no matter how his stomach flutters and squirms.

Gabe studies his expression, searching his resolve and he gives a firm nod when he finds what he’s looking for. “Good. We’ve got work to do.”

\---

*Dean*

Hours later, Benny, true to his word, has everything prepared so when Dean takes his place in the center of the village, he needs to do little but wait.

Samuel joins the gathering of people just before Sam and Benny bring the prisoners to face their punishment.

“This is preposterous!” Asmodeus protests. “This is an abuse of power that should not be allowed to stand.” His voice is low and dangerous, directed at Samuel as he settles into the broad chair brought out for him.

“Brother, holding your tongue would be the best course lest you find yourself joining the traitors.” Samuel glares at his older sibling before turning a cross eye on his nephew.

Azazel stands at his father’s side with his arms folded over his chest looking as dour as ever. Dean keeps a close eye on them, but his attention is centered on the two women being bound to posts in the center of the square.

“Alright, ladies. Who goes first?” Dean asks glibly as he lifts the first of hefty axes set aside for this purpose.

Inside his stomach is in knots. Already dreading the stench of iron and excrement that is sure to pervade his nose for the rest of the evening.

He will do what he must to protect his brother and his people. He always had and he always will.

That doesn’t mean he enjoys this part of his responsibilities.

Ruby scowls and Lilith sneers. “I will be first,” Lilith says with a brave frown and Dean nods.

Dean almost respects her for volunteering.

“Ruby, don’t watch,” Lilith whispers as Dean unties her from the post and drags her to the center of the open space.

“Lilith!” Ruby cries, tears beginning to stream down her face.

Sam’s hands twist in front of him and he drops his chin to his chest at the sight of Ruby’s tears.

Benny glares in Ruby’s direction and the woman chokes back her tears and puts on a stoic façade. Any hope of their redemption in the eyes of the gods rests in how bravely they face their ends.

Ruby would do well to comport herself with dignity.

Lilith sucks in a deep breath and Dean presses on her shoulder to signify she should kneel.

“Be glad you aren’t facing a blood eagle,” Dean says softly as he nudges her down.

She goes with a derisive snort. “This is not the end, Winchester,” She says too quietly for anyone but Dean to hear.

His heart skips a beat at the odd address and his eyes narrow in confusion. He doesn’t dare question her. She is merely trying to distract him from his duty.

He has a job to do.

“Your end is near though,” Lilith mutters lowly as she lowers her head to the stump Benny had prepared. She tilts her chin to the side and looks up at Dean with a chilling smirk as he lifts his ax high.

“No!” Azazel shouts as Dean forces his arms downward but Lilith doesn’t move from her position.

“Lilith!” Ruby sobs as her sister’s head drops into the dirt with a soft thunk that seems far too understated for a life ending with bloody violence. Crimson liquid soaks into the ground even as Benny and another of Dean’s warriors haul away the woman’s corpse.

Dean does his best not to lift his gaze and he swallows hard knowing his duty is only half completed.

Azazel grunts and fumes as he struggles against his father’s hold and Dean almost feels sorry for him. For the first time, his affections for the woman are on clear display.

If not for the tryst that Cas witnessed, Dean would have had no idea until now.

As it is, Dean lifts his gaze with his jaw clenched as he swings his bloody ax and places it against the rail while he waits for Sam to lead Ruby into place.

The second stump is set clear of the gore from the first and hot tears streak down Ruby’s cheeks as Sam leads her to where Dean now stands. Dean takes hold of the woman’s hands and leans close to Sam.

“Go inside, Sammy. You don’t have to be here for this,” Dean whispers to his brother and Sam pinches a frown.

“I’m fine, Dean,” Sam says softly but Dean can see the pain reflected in his hazel eyes.

Dean frowns but gives a stark nod as he jerks on Ruby’s bonds. “Kneel,” He says flatly when they reach the stump.

Ruby struggles and sobs, prompting Benny to step to Dean’s side.

“Keep struggling and you will stand no chance of redemption,” Dean says flatly as he grips the back of Ruby’s neck painfully.

“Face your punishment with bravery!” Samuel barks from his chair as he watches impassively.

Dean has few doubts that the Jarl is watching his brother more carefully than the proceedings. The rest of the village looks on in silence, judging Ruby’s behavior.

“No!” Ruby struggles against Dean’s hold and Benny helps Dean shove her down. “Sam, please,” Ruby begs, expression pleading and tone broken.

Sam swallows hard and turns away. “Do it, Dean.”

“Sam,” Ruby cries again, sniffling dramatically.

Sam walks away and comes to a stop at Samuel’s side. He holds his chin high and gives Dean a firm nod.

Dean clenches his jaw and returns the nod. Lilith’s blood has soaked into his pants, leaving cold spots against his leg as he lowers himself to one knee to speak to Ruby. “He isn’t falling for your act and neither am I. You wanted us dead, this is what you get. Now face your fate bravely.” He nearly growls in her ear and Ruby goes still.

A slow smile spreads across her features and her tears disappear almost instantly as she meets Dean’s gaze. “You will get what you deserve,” She says with malice in her eyes.

Dean shakes his head and gives her neck a shove into the stump. Ruby stays this time but Benny remains close regardless.

Dean takes a moment to collect himself, fighting down the disgust roiling through his blood. These women were plotting to murder Sam. Dean will gladly cleave their heads from their shoulders but something doesn’t feel right.

Azazel and Asmodeus are gone from their place near the front of the crowd and Dean hopes that his uncle pulled his son away to control his antics but he doubts that is the case.

All the screaming was an unsettling distraction and a snaking tendril of doubt twists in his stomach.

He swallows down his misgivings and gathers the second ax while Benny stands with his foot across Ruby’s shoulders and his arms folded over his chest. Dean glances at Samuel for confirmation and receives the nod he was expecting.

Dean steps into place and raises the ax without another word. He nods at Benny to move just as he begins his downward swing but a chorus of screams has his rhythm faltering and he starts to turn even as searing pain rips through his shoulder.

“Dean!” A gravel rough voice screams and time seems to slow as Dean spins in place with narrowed eyes to see Cas and Gabriel running toward the gathered crowd.

“Father!” Dean yells as Virgil steps behind the man and his throat erupts in a fountain of red as the former monk drags his blade across the tender flesh. Sam is in motion immediately, but he can do nothing to stem the gurgling flow.

Dean drops his ax as Ruby rolls away and Benny throws himself in front of Dean.

“Dean!” Cas yells again and Dean’s head swims as his blue-eyed angel comes to a skidding stop in front of him. Cas’ hands run over Dean’s chest and down his sides. “Dean,” Cas says again, his voice drowned with pain.

Dean looks down as he finally sees the arrow jutting his from his shoulder and a deafening rush of blood fills his ears. “Sammy!” Dean yells, searching for his brother.

“We need to leave,” Cas says, his normally rough voice pitched higher with worry.

Gabriel circles Virgil with a fierce scowl and Sam stands with him, shoulder to shoulder. Dean cannot hear the words they exchange, but Virgil is quickly cut down by Gabriel’s ax without mercy.

“Shit, Ruby,” Benny gasps and spins. “Get out of here, Dean.”

Dean turns to find himself face to face with Azazel’s sword, the man grinning maniacally as he glares at Dean’s wounded soldier.

“Alfie! Ephraim!” Cas shouts as he turns and then stands frozen as he takes in the sight of Azazel holding Dean at sword point. “Dean,” Cas says on a breath before lunging toward the ground to collect Dean’s ax. He presses the handle into Dean’s palm and Dean gladly closes his fingers around the smooth wood and he lifts the hefty weapon to face his foe.

Chaos reigns around them, people shouting and screaming, some coming to Dean and Sam’s defense and some taking up arms against those who would help. Sam and Gabriel stand surrounded and Benny is nowhere to be seen.

Dean urges Cas behind him with his injured arm, needing to keep him away from Azazel. Cas goes willingly but Dean doesn’t miss his sword clutched in the monk’s hands.

He’ll be asking about that later but for now, he’s grateful.

“Cassie!” Balthazar shouts as he runs toward the center of the chaos. No one pays the monks any attention as they circle Dean but his heart stutters with gratitude.

Gadreel rushes Azazel and collides with the man’s back hard enough to knock him off balance and they tumble to the ground in a cloud of dust.

Dean swings with his ax but he’s been forced to hold the weapon in his clumsy left hand and his swing barely cuts into Azazel’s side.

He would be better with a sword.

Blood seeps through Azazel’s shirt but he grins as he rolls back to his feet. Gadreel launches another attack but Azazel turns too fast, his blade disappearing through the monk's stomach as crimson blooms over the off-white linen.

“Gadreel!” Cas yells and lunges around Dean just as Azazel rips his sword from Gadreel’s belly and turns on Castiel.

Dean swings hard but Azazel knocks the ax from his hands as Cas spins and sinks his blade into Azazel’s thigh in the same motion that he falls to his knees at Gadreel’s side where the man is gasping for breath, leaving a trail of blood along his lips with each gurgling cough.

Azazel grunts with surprise and falls to his knees as Ezekiel swoops forward and tackles him to the ground in front of Dean.

Dean wastes no time in reacting and his fist connects harshly with Azazel’s teeth as he readies his ax to swing. His shoulder screams in agony from the arrow still jutting from his chest, the shaft now broken and jagged.

“NO!” Gadreel wails and he launches himself in front of Castiel with what little strength he has left, catching an arrow surely meant for his brother’s heart before falling still in the red soaked earth.

“Cas!” Dean shouts and Azazel lays forgotten as Dean claws his way to forward.

“We need to leave, Dean,” Balthazar wedges his hand under Dean’s armpit and hauls the man to his feet as Alfie holds a hand toward Cas.

Dean nods dumbly as he pulls Cas into his side, needing to feel Cas safe and warm against him. “The forest,” Dean rasps, nodding in the direction of the trees. He and Sam have a secret clearing about a mile from the village they once used to escape the pressures of their lives.

“Sammy!” Dean shouts and jerks his head in the direction of the forest when he catches his brother’s eyes. Sam gives a jerky nod and turns back to fending off another of Asmodeus’ followers. “Help him,” Dean says, hoping that at least one of the five monks surrounding him will listen.

Ezekiel nods and darts off at the same time Inias runs from the other side of the open square with a flaming torch in hand.

He spares no one standing in his way in his efforts to reach Sam and Gabriel, effectively clearing the way for Ezekiel to reach in and grasp Sam by the elbow to make their escape.

Balthazar and Cas help Dean out of the mayhem and several of Dean’s warriors protectively fill in around them with Alfie and Ephraim.

“Benny!” Dean shouts when he catches sight of his friend in the distance and Benny sprints to join them.

Dean and his guard make it into the woods unfollowed by Asmodeus’ followers. His uncle is likely already celebrating.

Samuel is dead and Dean is injured.

There is no one to challenge Asmodeus when he declares himself Jarl.

Dean only prides himself Lilith met her end before everything went wrong.

“Cas okay?” Dean asks, pain filling his tone.

“Yes, Dean,” Cas says and grips Dean’s side that much tighter.

“Dean!” Sam says as he bursts into the forest with Gabriel, Inias, and Ezekiel covering his back.

“Sammy,” Dean pulls away from Balthazar and drags his brother into as tight a hug as he can manage.

“M’okay,” Sam says with his voice muffles in Dean’s uninjured shoulder.

“Dean, you need a healer,” Ephraim stresses as he tries to get Dean to sit.

“Leave it. We need to get farther away.” Dean bats the monk’s hand away from the broken arrow still lodged in his shoulder.

“Come, Dean,” Cas says as he tugs Dean further into the forest. “We need, we need…” Cas stammer for the right word, the adrenaline of the situation proving to be too much for his limited Norse vocabulary.

“We need to get to our clearing,” Sam helpfully supplies and Dean nods.

“Come on, brother,” Benny pushes Balthazar out of the way and takes his place supporting Dean’s injured side. “I got him.”

Balthazar nods. “Good, I was getting tired of hauling his lazy ass around,” Balthazar quips but his expression betrays his concern.

“Come, brother,” Alfie holds out an arm to urge Balthazar along and together, they all pick their way through the trees.

The sun has sunk low in the sky by the time they reach the clearing and Dean’s insides feel numb.

Ephraim pushes Dean onto a fallen tree with a fierce scowl. “I need to do this now. Before there isn’t enough light.”

Dean sighs and nods as Cas plasters himself to Dean’s good side. There hasn’t been more than an inch between them since Dean helped pull him from his knees when Gadreel fell and neither of them seems anxious for space.

Dean closes his eyes and leans his forehead to Cas’ shoulder as Ephraim’s fingers prod around the shaft of the arrow embedded in Dean’s shoulder. He counts himself lucky.

The projectile seems to have missed anything vital. If he hadn’t been distracted by Cas’ scream, the arrow might have caught him in the heart and ended his life.

Dean keeps his chin buried in the crook of Cas’ neck as Ephraim does his work. Tears force their way from his eyes at the sharp pain but he holds his silence as any man should. The way Cas holds their fingers intertwined proves to be an adequate distraction as Sam rants and begins to panic.

“What do we do now, Dean?” Sam exclaims the instant Ephraim steps away from Dean’s newly bandaged wound and Dean deigns to lift his eyes from their hiding spot.

He clenches his jaw and glares at Sam. “I think this was their plan all along. That arrow was meant to kill me, but Asmodeus’ archer failed.” Dean turns to Cas and shakes his head. “You should leave. Take your brothers and go home. You have your freedom and my blessing,” Dean says with a thickening tongue. He hates the words coming out of his mouth but this isn’t their fight. He doesn’t understand why they ran to help him in the first place.

By all rights, they should have celebrated his demise.

Ezekiel folds his arms over his chest and stares down at Dean while Cas’ lips part in surprise.

Cas shakes his head vehemently. “I’m staying,” he says with steadfast determination written in the clench of his jaw.

“Cas,” Dean says tiredly as he looks to Sam for help.

Sam merely huffs and shakes his head before turning to Gabriel.

Gabe huffs and rolls his eyes. “If you think I’m leaving now that things have finally gotten interesting, you’re mad.” He takes a step toward Sam. “Besides, what would you do without me?” Gabriel smirks and Sam shakes his head with amusement.

Dean still stares at Cas with a shaking head. “Don’t you understand? Cas, you don’t have to stay. You can go home.”

Cas frowns and Dean can see the confliction in his bottomless blue eyes. Cas’ head tilts as if considering a question of dire importance before his jaw firms once again as he comes to conclusion.

Cas’ gaze searches Dean’s expression and Dean has never felt such scrutiny. “You were born in Wessex,” Cas says plainly and Dean can’t help his wince even if Cas is avoiding the topic at hand.

Dean gives a jerky nod. “Cas, I’m sorry, I didn’t tell you. You must hate me...” Dean starts to ramble but Cas places his hands against Dean’s chest and pushes hard enough to keep him at a distance.

Dean’s fingers instinctively circle Cas’ wrists, ready to defend himself but Cas pulls him forward instead and presses his lips to Dean’s harshly. Dean whimpers into the kiss and his eyes slide closed unbidden. If this is their last kiss, Dean will savor each bruising moment of it.

Eventually, Cas pulls back and stares deep into Dean’s soul. “I know. Dean, I know you were a Saxon. I’ve known since the first night,” Cas says and Dean’s heart stills in his chest.

“You...How?” Dean swallows hard, mind scrambling to come up with how Cas might have known.

Cas’ fingers reach for the hilt of Dean’s sword where he had left it leaning against the fallen tree. The Norse warriors around them tense and Dean stares wide-eyed as he allows Cas to take the hefty sword in hand. “Wyvern.” Cas lifts the gleaming blade and presents the flat side of the blade to Dean as he gently strokes the etchings to be found there. “Jarl Samuel is not your father,” Cas says and Dean shakes his head gently as he continues to stare.

He thinks back to the attention Cas has always paid to his sword and the nonsensical words he spoke. Wessex. Winchester. All words that Dean has come to relate to his past.

Cas chews his lip and nods as his fingers move further down the blade. “Winchester,” Cas says. “This was the sword of John of Winchester.”

Dean frowns and shakes his head as Cas hands him the hilt of the sword. “My father’s sword,” Dean says with his eyes narrowed in confusion. He’s heard the name John of Winchester before, but who he was has never been explained.

Cas gives him a sweet smile and nods. “You don’t know.” Cas’ gaze flits to Gabriel as if asking permission and Dean doesn’t miss the older monk’s jerky nod. “John of Winchester, your father, was King of Wessex.” Cas’ voice is soft but the rushing in Dean’s ears muffles his words. Cas slips off the tree trunk and sinks to his knees on the leaf-littered earth. “My Prince,” Cas says as he bows his head.

“Cas, what. What are you saying?” Dean pushes to his feet and takes a step backward with his tone edging on panic. His father was a king? Cas must be mistaken. “I am not a Prince.” He shakes his head. He is not Saxon royalty. How could he be?

“He isn’t wrong, Dean-o.” Gabriel comes closer with a satisfied smirk.

“You.” Dean points. “You put him up to this.”

Gabe shakes his head before turning to Cas. “Get off your knees, Cassie. You know he isn’t a Prince anymore,” Gabe says with a nearly audible eyeroll. “And you,” Gabe says as he turns his attention back to Dean. “You _were_ a Prince. You would have been King. Your father, King John, was a good man. Cut down by that man you call your Jarl, who was incidentally, your grandfather.”

“That’s impossible!” Sam exclaims with a furrowed brow as he comes to a stop next to his brother with his arms folded over his chest. The look on his face is incredulous and Gabe shoots him a glare.

The other Norse men look around sheepishly and the monks all gather in front of Dean and Sam.

“You are the sons of John of Winchester and Mary of the North. We have no doubt, and as such you have our loyalties. Your father was a good King, your mother the darling of Wessex and you, Dean, would have followed well in their footsteps.” Ezekiel places a folded fist over his heart and dips his chin.

Sam looks to Gabe with betrayal written over his features. “How long have you known?” He swallows hard around his words and his bright eyes are blown wide in the darkness.

Gabe shrugs. “Long enough. Cassie noticed the sword first and put the pieces together. He would know, he was born in your father’s castle. When we learned of Samuel’s daughter, we lost all doubt.”

Cas’ cheeks flush and he looks at the dirt at his feet. He scuffs his toe in the leaves and refuses to meet Dean’s gaze.

“Cas?” Dean questions, his voice small and confused.

Cas looks to Gabe, knowing he doesn’t have the words to explain. “Tell him, Gabriel. Tell him that my mother was a laundrywoman. Dean and I knew each other vaguely as young boys, before…”

Dean’s eyes widen as Gabriel begrudgingly translates. He swallows hard as he stares and then turns away from Cas with a strangled sound. He can’t believe this. All this time and Cas didn’t tell him. He and Cas met before? As children?

Dean swallows hard and closes his eyes, trying to remember.

That was so long ago and those early memories were stomped out of him. Sometimes literally. Samuel did not tolerate Dean holding onto any semblance of his former life. He barely remembers his mother, he was only four when she passed, and his father is a mere shadow of a memory.

Dean’s breath hitches when a flash of blue eyes a tinkling laugh comes to mind but they disappear before Dean can grasp them tighter. He swallows hard and flounders for a thought to grasp.

“Dean?” Cas says softly and Dean flinches when he feels the man brush his fingers along the back of his shoulder.

“Don’t.” Dean chokes out as he pulls away. “Don’t.”

“Dean,” Cas says brokenly as Dean walks away but he doesn’t turn back. He can’t turn back.


	15. Choices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas follows Dean into the forest and makes him understand why he refuses to leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: NSFW. Also, Dean is a dumbass.

“No, Cas,” Sam says softly as he places a hand to the center of Castiel’s chest.

“I need to talk to him,” Cas protests, putting up a token struggle against Sam’s restraint. Dean doesn’t understand. Cas didn’t tell him about his parentage to make him angry. Sam and Dean deserve to know who they are.

They deserve to know why Cas _chooses_ to stay.

Sam shakes his head. “You should go. All of you should go. This isn’t your fight.” Sam looks to each of the monks. “You heard Dean. You’re all free.”

Cas shakes his head and Gabriel reaches up to swat Sam on the back of the head with a scowl. “Do you really think you can just throw us away?” Gabriel snaps before turning to his brothers. “Do any of you choose to turn away now? If you wish to go home, go now or forever hold your peace.”

Balthazar scoffs and shakes his head. “And leave this delightful little place behind? Not a chance.” His arms fold over his chest and he fixes Sam with an unimpressed frown.

“I refuse to leave Ingrid.” Ezekiel takes his position in front of Sam.

Ephraim steps to Balthazar’s other side and flinches a smile. “If a battle is coming, you will need healers. I cannot, in good conscience, leave.”

Samandriel looks to Cas with a gentle gaze. “I may not be useful in the fight to come, but I am not abandoning my brothers.”

Cas looks at his brothers with an adoring gaze. Despite their faults and the hardships they’ve faced, they still hold true.

Inias is the only man to stand back and he shakes his head with a huff before he finally steps forward. “Where they go, I go,” He says while looking at Cas with hurt written clearly in his gaze.

“I believe you have your answer, Samsquatch.” Gabriel places his hands on his hips and fixes Sam with a glare that could melt a lesser man.

“I’m glad to have you, then,” Benny says, breaking the silence that has fallen in the small clearing.

Cas gives Benny a shy smile and his heart swells with gratitude. “Thank you, Benny.”

Sam sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “You’re all crazy,” He says before nodding his head in acceptance.

Cas takes Sam’s distraction as an opportunity to jog away from the clearing in the same direction Dean had headed.

“Cas!” Sam calls after him but Cas turns and shakes his head.

“I need to talk to him,” Cas says before forging on.

He walks and walks, listening carefully for signs of his quarry but Dean seems to have vanished. “Dean!” Cas calls out, hoping to provoke a reaction.

Cas huffs and shakes his head as he charges on. “Dean!” He tries again and is rewarded with a faint rustle of leaves to his left.

“Go home, Cas,” Dean says flatly and Cas turns to see him sitting on the ground in front of a large tree. His knees are drawn up to his chest and his eyes are rimmed in red even as he rubs them with his shirtsleeve.

“No,” Cas says flatly. He marches over to where Dean sits and plops down next to the man. “Not leaving.”

Dean huffs and shakes his head. He refuses to look at Cas even when he bumps their shoulders together. “You shouldn’t be here. You wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t stolen you. I’m a selfish bastard, Cas. I don’t deserve you,” Dean says and Cas squints in irritation.

“You know I don’t understand,” Cas says flatly. Truthfully, he understands more than he’ll admit. Dean thinks he doesn’t deserve him?

Ridiculous.

Dean shakes his head with a sigh before nodding. He still refuses to meet Cas’ gaze as he reaches forward to snatch a twig off the ground in front of him. His nimble fingers twist and break the frail piece of wood into ever smaller pieces. “I’m bad, Cas. Bad for you. You don’t want me.”

Cas scowls and shakes his head before bumping their shoulders together harshly. “Not bad, Dean,” he says and the sheer depth of his tone finally draws Dean’s gaze. “I want you,” Cas says in Norse before turning to his native English. “I shouldn’t. You stole me from my home. Enslaved me. I should hate you.” Cas shakes his head at Dean’s confusion. There are words that Cas needs to say out loud.

Dean’s understanding is not of import.

“You are demanding, harsh, violent, and yet the most tender man I’ve ever known. You protected me even when I hated you. When you had every opportunity to be cruel and to simply take, you chose to be a good man.” Cas looks up to meet Dean’s bewildered gaze and offers him a soft smile.

“No matter who you are, you are a good man, Dean.” Cas changes back to Norse as he covers Dean’s hand with his. His heart flutters wildly as he prepares himself for an admission that he’s been holding back for longer than he realized until today. “I stay for you. Because I love you.”

Dean’s mouth drops open and snaps closed. He sucks in a sharp breath and shakes his head in denial. “You…you can’t,” Dean mutters and Cas rolls his eyes. “I don’t deserve you.”

Cas huffs at Dean’s self-deprecating tone but swallows hard as he nods. “That is my choice.” He turns and swings his leg over Dean’s to straddle the man’s thighs.

Dean's eyes go wide and his hands freeze on their way to cradle Castiel’s hips, afraid to move and ruin the moment as Cas frames Dean’s cheeks with his palms to pull him into a heated kiss.

Their lips move together, a rough glide that causes Cas’ breath to hitch but he refuses to full back. Not when this feels so right. Dean relaxes into Cas’ touch bit by bit until he finally lets his hands settle on Cas’ hips.

Cas feels his heart quicken and his muscles tense but he dismisses his lingering fear almost immediately. His eyes slide closed as he hums, encouraging Dean to be bold. He wants this. He needs this.

He prods forward with his tongue and Dean’s teeth part to allow him entrance as the man’s lips stretch into a smile. Dean’s heady moan goes straight to Cas’ cock and he lets himself grind against Dean’s lap, eliciting a squeak of surprise from the man as he drags Cas closer.

Cas sweeps his tongue over Dean’s and his heart hammers in his chest from excitement rather than fear and his mind can barely grasp why he resisted this before.

The instinctive fear of intimate touch seems misplaced with Dean hardening underneath him.

Dean won’t hurt him. Dean will never hurt him. Cas pulls back with a gasp. “Dean.” His chest heaves and his mouth hangs open as he takes in Dean’s blown pupils and strained breathing.

“Cas,” Dean croaks, fingers flexing on Cas’ hips.

“Dean,” Cas says before swooping back in to claim Dean’s lips for his own.

Dean’s fingers trail down Cas’ side and ruck up his shirt, pulling a gasp from him when warm fingers tease against the bare skin of his back.

Cas whimpers and presses into Dean’s touch, suddenly needing those calloused hands on him. “Please,” Cas whines and Dean must understand because the next thing Cas knows, Dean’s rough palms are sliding up his back and hauling him ever closer with barely any effort at all.

Heat swells in his chest, in his groin, and he feels too full of adoration to make room to be afraid. Dean’s touch is everything he needs. Comforting, arousing, deliciously perfect in a way Cas never could have imagined.

He wants more.

“Gods Cas,” Dean gasps when he finally pulls away. His lips are kiss swollen and red, green eyes nearly eclipsed by his wide pupils.

Cas swallows hard as they stare at one another and Cas’ body aches for more. Dean’s touch is like nothing he’s ever felt and he thinks he can quickly become addicted. “Please, Dean. I need…” He doesn’t know the word so he presses himself harder into Dean’s lap to make his point.

Cas has never felt such unadulterated want coursing through his veins, his body sings and trembles with the absolute need to touch and be touched. He presses down and bites his lip with a whine when he feels Dean’s hardness pressing against his, a firm line barely masked by layers of fabric that Cas suddenly finds himself hating.

“Ok, ok,” Dean mutters against Cas’ lips as they grind together. “Let me,” Dean says softly as he releases Cas’ hip to toy with the lacing at the front his pants. “Okay?” Dean asks, fingers stalling on the lacing as his green eyes search for an answer.

Cas gives a jerky nod along with his needy whine. He could lose himself in the shining depths of Dean’s eyes, wide and unguarded with desire, his lips are kiss swollen and shining from Castiel’s attention.

He’s beautiful and Cas’ heart aches knowing that this man in _his_.

Dean takes Cas’ nod as permission and makes short work of the lacing at the front of his pants. Cas swallows hard when he feels Dean tugging on the last shred of fabric preserving his modesty but he craves Dean’s touch too much to try to stop him.

There is no going back after this.

They both whimper when Dean’s fingers snake inside Cas’ pants and take hold of his aching length for the first time. Cas’ pushes his linen pants down enough for Dean to work his cock free and drag Cas into a messy kiss that has their teeth knocking together almost painfully before Dean twists his wrist and tugs.

Cas lets out a garbled cry at the foreign sensation and he throws his head back as stars explode behind his eyes.

It’s all that he can do to stay upright as Dean continues to work him and he drops his forehead against Dean’s shoulder to try to steady himself.

“Dean,” Cas moans as he claims Dean’s lips once again as his hands drift to the ties of Dean’s pants. This unspeakable pleasure has sparked another need in him that is entirely foreign.

Dean touching him isn’t enough, he needs to feel Dean’s weight in his hand and add to the building pleasure between them.

His hands tremble as he seeks to free Dean’s erection but that may simply be because of the way Dean’s strong fingers seek to drive him to madness as he ruts into Dean’s fist.

“Come on, Cas,” Dean urges has he works Cas over. Cas’ whole body vibrates with tension that builds low in his stomach and threatens to burst outward with terrifying force. “Let me see.”

Cas yelps when Dean twists his wrist just so and squeezes the head of his cock just right. His skin is flushed with sweat beginning to bead across his brow but he smiles in triumph when he finally gains access to his goal.

Cas fingers snake inside Dean’s pants and Dean shifts his hips to help as Cas takes him in hand. Cas’ strokes are clumsy and ill-timed but Dean still moans and pushes into him. Cas’ gaze drops to their laps as they strip each other’s cocks and Dean lets out a bitten-off moan.

Cas feels his cheeks flush for a new reason and his off-kilter rhythm stutters further. Dean’s cock jumps in his hand, hot and heavy and entirely foreign. “Dean, I don’t know…” His blue eyes search Dean’s blissful expression guiltily.

He has no idea what he’s doing.

Dean gives him a lazy smile and nods. “Like this,” Dean says into the scant space between their mouths and takes them both in hand. He urges Cas to wrap his fingers around them too, forming a tight tunnel with both their hands and Cas nearly cries out at the feeling of their hard lines pressing against one another.

Cas lets Dean guide him, fucking into their fists and squeezing hard enough to be just this side of pleasurable. Dean’s eyes are more intense than Cas has seen them yet, the blackness ringed in green that rivals the forest around them and Dean’s kiss bitten lips beg to be kissed again.

Cas feels himself falling, yearning for more and daring to take it. He leans forward to capture Dean’s lips with a begging moan. Their lips move together messily and Cas groans when Dean’s tongue sweeps against his teeth and enters his mouth.

“Gods, Cas, come on, so close,” Dean pulls back to mutter as they press their foreheads together.

“Dean,” Cas says, his voice strangled and hoarse. He stands at the edge of a precipice, waiting to tumble over the edge but Dean is keeping him grounded, safe, and he doesn’t want this to end so soon.

The spike of pleasure from Dean’s touch moves inward at the same time delicious pressure forces itself outward.

Dean controls their motions and Cas can’t help but writhe on top of the man. His eyes fall closed so he can better savor the feeling of Dean’s hands on him, from the hand on his cock to the hand that has slipped under his shirt to press flat against the small of his back.

Dean throws his head back and groans, his green eyes slitting open to watch how Cas moves on his lap. “Beautiful,” Dean says as he squeezes them. Cas can’t find it in himself to disagree.

Dean’s throat constricts when he swallows and Cas absolutely _needs_ to kiss that bead of sweat away as it rolls over the stubbled skin. He leans forward and mouths over the sharp cut of Dean’s jaw and down his throat as he bucks into Dean’s hand, chasing the peak of pleasure that he’s steadily climbing toward.

“Dean,” Cas whines and his heart stutters when his belly clenches.

Dean squeezes their cocks and bucks against Cas in a way that has him crying out in a sob as the glorious pressure building inside him finally swells outward. His vision darkens and his cock begins to twitch and spurt, coating their hands in sticky white that has Dean stiffening below him and following over the edge.

Their hands still as their cocks soften and Cas drops his forehead to Dean’s shoulder as he tries to catch his breath.

“Beautiful, Cas,” Dean whispers and strokes his clean hand through Cas’ sweaty hair. He plants a chaste kiss at the side of Cas’ brow in a direct contradiction of their actions only moments ago and Cas can’t help his blissful smile.

Cas hums at the gentle touch and his body tingles with the aftereffects of the most potent climax of his life. His breath remains shaky and hitches completely when Dean untangles their fingers and brings a come coated digit to his lips.

His jaw drops in awe and another vicious spike of arousal threatens to make him hard again as Dean cleans his fingers one by one with his tongue, humming around the taste of their combined release.

Cas can’t help himself then. He tightens his fingers in the short hairs at the back of Dean’s neck and drags him into a heated kiss. The taste of their release on Dean’s tongue is bitter, salty, and the most thrilling thing Cas has ever tasted.

Dean arms snake around his back and pull Cas flush against him, paying little mind to the mess still lingering between them. “I love you,” Dean whispers against Cas’ ear and he swears he’s never felt such pleasure in his life.

The slow simmering heat that he thought to be quenched roars to life once again and he clings to Dean as tightly as he dares considering Dean’s wounded shoulder. “M’not leaving,” Cas mumbles, feeling suddenly drowsy.

Dean chuckles and kisses his hair. “Good. I need you, Cas.” Dean whispers as if telling him a secret and Cas’ heart warms with Dean’s confession.

Dean holds him tight a moment more but that does nothing to lessen Cas’ unhappiness when he finally pulls back. “We need to clean up and rejoin the others. We need a plan.” Dean makes a move to tuck them back into their pants but Cas lets out a noise of protest and tightens his grip on Dean’s middle. “Cas,” Dean laughs and gives in. “Fine, just for a minute. You’re heavy, you know.”

“Don’t care,” Cas says with his nose buried in the crook of Dean’s neck. Never before has he felt so languid and complete, so at peace. All his adult life, he has sought to be closer to God, closer to divinity and now he feels that he’s wasted so much time.

No one told him that he could experience true peace in the arms of another man.

In Dean’s arms.

Dean laughs and shakes his head. He suddenly sounds so much lighter, so much more at ease and Cas smiles in satisfaction. “I’m gonna take such good care you when we’re back in a bed. You have no idea,” Dean says and Cas lifts his head to stare at Dean with a narrow-eyed glare.

Too much talking. Dean is doing far too much talking.

“Dean!” Sam’s loud call cuts through the forest and Dean winces. “Cas!”

“Alright, we need to move,” Dean says and Cas groans in protest but still pulls back so he can climb out of Dean’s lap.

Cas stands on wobbly legs as he tucks himself away and reties his pants before offering a hand to Dean. The mess they made has stained both their shirts and Cas glares down at the drying stickiness. Disgusting.

Dean laughs and shakes his head. “You’re adorable,” he says as he lifts Cas chin with a finger and touches their lips together lightly.

“Guys, what are you doi...oh gods,” Sam says as he spins in place and buries his fingers in his hair. “I did not need to see that.”

Dean laughs and kisses Cas again. “Get used to it, Sammy.”

Cas’ cheeks heat and his skin flushes. This went further than he expected but he doesn’t regret their actions even the slightest. He laid himself bare before Dean and found himself caught in Dean’s net, held safe and warm as he let himself fall away from everything he’s ever known.

Sam huffs and screws his features into a horrified grimace that pulls a laugh from Dean. “We need to come up with a plan,” Sam says, still not quite meeting Dean’s eyes. Cas watches with embarrassed amusement.

Whatever possessed him to plant himself in Dean’s lap so boldly has disappeared and left him a trembling mess of doubt warmed only by the way Dean’s hands refuse to leave him. “Sam is correct,” Cas manages to say as he steps further into Dean’s space.

The world comes crashing back down on his shoulders. Dean’s father, well…grandfather is dead. Gadreel gave his life taking the arrow meant for Castiel and there is much to do. A sharp pang of sadness threatens to overwhelm him and he takes a step away from Dean to clutch a hand to his stomach in an attempt to quell the dread building there.

Dean looks at him with an arched brow before snagging Cas’ arm and reeling him back in. He doesn’t bother trying to ask what sudden cloud has formed in Cas’ mind, he simply wraps an arm around Cas’ waist and holds him close.

Cas cannot believe how natural this feels.

“Come on,” Dean mumbles as he holds a silent conversation with his brother.

He and Dean walk hand in hand with Sam on Dean’s other side. The two brothers speak in Norse that Cas doesn’t quite comprehend, but Cas lets it go. He’s learning, and he trusts them to not keep anything important from him.

A sadness lingers between the brothers but the gloom isn’t as marked as Cas had expected considering they stood witness to the murder of their father figure only hours ago.

They seem resigned rather than surprised and Cas holds Dean’s hand that much tighter.

He and Gabriel had seen Azazel slink away from the executions. He knew he wasn’t supposed to watch, but he and Gabriel were already gathering weapons when the commotion drew their attention the same as everyone else.

An archer on the roof was a clear sign that something was wrong.

His heart stutters when he considers the recent memory of seeing that man with long braided hair nock his arrow and aim. In the moment it took him and Gabriel to follow the man’s sight straight to Dean, Cas began to react without thought.

He’s certain he’s never screamed so loud in his life nor held his breath for so long. He ceased to think until he fell to his knees at Dean’s side and scooped that terrible ax out of the dirt and shoved the handle into Dean’s outstretched hand.

“Hey,” Dean bumps his shoulder and Cas shakes himself out of his thoughts. “You okay?”

He sniffs harshly and nods as he does his best to ignore the burning prickle behind his eyelids. “Yes,” He says as steadily as he can manage.

Dean gives him an unconvinced look but he doesn’t ask anything further as the small clearing appears through the trees.

“Castiel,” Inias says, stepping away from the group to block Cas’ path with a worried expression.

Cas looks to Dean and gives him a half-smile. “I need to…” Cas doesn’t need to finish before Dean begins nodding and releases his hand.

Dean hesitates and for a moment, Cas thinks he’s going to kiss him again but he refrains. Instead, Dean turns away to join Sam and Benny. Undoubtedly to plan their next moves.

“I am glad you are here, Inias,” Cas says softly, diplomatically. He doesn’t miss the way Inias glares at the back of Dean’s head and Cas feels a pang of guilt now that Alfie opened his eyes to Inias’ feelings.

The forest blots out the noise of the stream Cas knows is nearby and the setting sun casts long shadows in the small clearing. Gabriel and Alfie sit in close conference with Balthazar and Ezekiel while the Norsemen who fled with them are gathered around Dean and Sam.

Cas feels the tension of the day running through his veins, quickly replacing the languid pleasure of only moments ago. A glance at Inias serves to chill him further.

“You are allowing Dean to have you,” Inias says flatly with a general glare toward everything around him.

Cas sucks in a sharp breath and prays for patience as he regards his brother. “I am not _allowing_ him anything. I have grown close to him on my own accord.” Cas looks through Inias rather than at him. He cannot bear to watch the anger flitting across his friend’s features.

“You betray us, Castiel,” Inias says and Cas feels his cheeks heat with anger.

“I betray no one,” Cas snaps and takes a step back. He clenches his jaw and glares. “You are a dear friend and brother to me, please do not forsake me for finding happiness.”

Inias huffs and shakes his head and frowning with a sigh. His confliction is written clearly across his features and sadness wells in his pale blue eyes. Cas aches to reach out to him but he worries Inias will simply push him away.

Finally, Inias takes a deep breath and offers him a watery smile. “I could never forsake you. I have loved you for too long to forsake you.”

Cas feels tears burning in his eyes and his heart feels heavy in his chest. “I never wanted to hurt you,” Cas says, barely whispering but the pained look that causes Inias’ brow to furrow in evidence enough that Castiel’s words were heard.

“And yet…” Inias starts and trails off, looking everywhere but at Cas.

“Cassie, Nias! Quit pining and get over here!” Gabriel demands with his hands on his hips and Ezekiel snickers behind him.

“Gabriel,” Cas says, drawing out his brother’s name as a warning of sorts but Gabe only laughs.

Inias huffs a nervous little laugh and cracks a hesitant smile.

Cas shakes his head fondly at his brash brother and turns back to Inias. “Shall we?”

Inias swallows thickly and nods. “We should pray for Gadreel.”

Cas nods but his heart feels hollow. Gadreel saved his life and praying for his soul seems so…inadequate.

“So, we’re officially throwing in our lot with these savages,” Balthazar says but any heat his words may have carried is lost to his wide smile.

Ezekiel smacks his shoulder fondly, if not a bit hard. “Some of us have fallen for these _savages_. Be nice.” Zeke gives Cas a knowing smirk and Inias looks pained all over again.

Alfie clears his throat and scowls through the lighthearted banter. “We lost two of our brothers today. They deserve our remembrances.”

“We’ll lose a third tomorrow if I have anything to say about it,” Balthazar mutters darkly. “Metatron is a traitor and you know it.” He crosses his arms over his chest and returns Inias’ glare wholeheartedly.

“Now is not the time to judge Metatron for his trespasses,” Samandriel says, wise beyond his years.

“Gadreel saved my life,” Cas says simply. “I owe him a debt I can never repay.”

Gabriel nods. “Gadreel was a good man. I only hope he found the redemption he sought.”

“Cheers to that,” Balthazar adds.

“Brothers,” Inias says, swatting Cas’ arm lightly before pointing to Dean as he approaches.

“Do we have a plan?” Gabriel asks once Dean is in earshot.

Dean’s answering smile says enough. “We do. And we need your help.”

\---

*Dean*

Dean explains the plan and it sounds exceedingly simple. Cas and Gabriel exchange impressed looks and Inias looks a little green around the gills but nods his agreement anyway.

“That is risky,” Ezekiel says with narrowed eyes. “We must assume that Asmodeus will ignore us sneaking back into the village. What makes you think he will?”

Sam steps to Dean’s side and sucks in a heavy breath. “He won’t. We need to you swear your allegiance to him and make him think you’ve turned against us.”

Cas’ eyes blow wide and he shakes his head vigorously. “No. I won’t. Dean, I won’t leave you.”

Dean smiles softly and nods. He had hoped Cas would say as much. “You and Gabriel will stay with us. Asmodeus is not fool enough to believe you two would abandon me and Sam.”

“And Cassie is a terrible liar,” Gabriel teases and playfully elbows Cas in the ribs.

Cas shakes his head with a smile and Dean barks a faint laugh at their brotherly banter.

“If you all agree, you will leave at first light. Benny and a few others will leave a few hours later, to give you time to get everyone into position,” Sam says, drawing everyone in with his serious tone. “Me and Dean will come in last with Gabe and Cas for the final part of the plan.”

Dean nods with a frown. “This will be dangerous. I would understand if you decide you don’t want to…” Dean trails off as he scans the face of each monk gathered around him.

They look little like the scared men in brown robes who volunteered to be taken into slavery. They have all changed, found their strength, and adapted in ways that Dean can only be proud of.

They are not the weaklings he had taken them for.

Ezekiel firms his jaw and stares directly into Dean’s eyes. In the waning light, his pale blue eyes appear faint and grey but Dean can easily see the determination written there. “I will not abandon Ingrid to Asmodeus’ cruelty.” 

Dean nods firmly. “You love her.” He folds his arms over his chest and stares into Zeke’s eyes with an unspoken challenge.

“I would die for her,” Ezekiel says without hesitation and Dean breaks into a wide smile as his heart skips a happy beat.

“Then you have my blessing to fight for her, to wed her if she will have you. I would be proud to welcome you into our family.” Dean smiles as he speaks and holds Ezekiel’s gaze easily.

Cas had mentioned, in the quiet shadows of Dean’s bed, that Ezekiel was quite taken with Dean’s distant cousin and wished to marry her but was hesitant to approach Jarl Samuel. He’s been waiting for a chance to speak with Ezekiel about his intentions, but the moment hadn’t arisen until now.

Dean has been malcontent with many of his Jarl’s policies for many years and this is the first step he can take toward changing some of them.

Zeke’s jaw drops slightly as he takes in Dean’s words and an adoring smile spreads over Cas’ features that Dean could let himself bask in for the rest of his life.

“You, you would grant us that?” Ezekiel swallows hard and regards Dean with a sort of cautious wonder that remains tinged with hope despite his doubts.

Dean shrugs and glances at Sam. “You see any reason not to let them, Sammy?” Dean asks his brother and Sam’s resulting eyeroll is nearly audible.

“And if I wish to return to Wessex with her?” Ezekiel cautiously puts out and Dean’s smile dampens.

Dean takes a deep breath and forces himself to nod. “If she wishes to leave with you, I will not try to stop you.”

Zeke’s lips purse into a smile and he gives Dean a firm nod. “Many thanks,” Ezekiel says as he glances toward Castiel with gratitude shining in his eyes.

“Who will stay and fight with us?” Dean looks out over the gathered monks.

Not one of them still dons the wool habits they once wore. Such clothes are not practical here in the North, but Dean would also like to think that they decided to set aside their pasts and embrace the life they find themselves in.

One by one, the monks nod or voice their dedication and Cas steps to his side. Dean reaches out to take Cas’ hand and their fingers twine together effortlessly, easing the burden of the fight to come.

Inias is the last to agree and he does so with a crestfallen expression as he looks upon the easy way Cas stands with Dean. “I would follow you anywhere, Castiel,” Inias says as he flinches a smile and Cas wilts perceptibly.

Dean realizes with a painful twinge what he’s witnessing. Since the beginning, Inias has been the first to come to Cas’ defense, even against Dean himself. Looking between them now, Dean realizes that Cas made a choice that Dean hadn’t realized was there to make.

He squeezes Cas’ hand tighter and gives in to the surge of jealous protectiveness that flares in his heart. Cas is _his. _

But that dark little cloud begins to form in Dean’s mind, casting doubt and renewing his deeply rooted sense of guilt. The bottom of his stomach drops out and bile rises in his throat.

He was horrible to Cas. To all of them. They should have turned and walked away the instant Dean declared them free.

Cas should understand that better than any of them.

Cas never would have chosen Dean if he had been given a real choice. He would still be with Inias if not for Dean.

Dean swallows hard and pulls away from Cas abruptly enough to earn a quizzical look from Cas that he resolutely ignores.

Dean nods absently to those surrounding him as his heart shreds itself within his chest. “We should all get some rest,” He says, proud that his voice doesn’t crack, and turns away to speak with Benny. “I’ll take first watch,” He says to his friend but Benny arches a brow and shakes his head.

“With your shoulder? No offense, brother, but if you’re gonna have any chance tomorrow, you need to rest.” Benny folds his arms over his chest and fixes Dean with a stern frown.

“Dean?” Cas says from beside him and Dean turns his shoulder to block his view.

“Benny’s right,” Sam chimes in. “Why don’t you two get some rest.” Sam gestures to Dean and Cas but Dean can’t bring himself to look at Cas. How can he when he’s done nothing but harm him?

He doesn’t deserve Cas’ affections. Cas deserves someone kind and gentle.

Not some brainless brute who doubles as a possessive bastard.

Dean’s cheeks heat and he drops his gaze when he feels Cas slips their hands together. “Dean?” Cas asks again and Dean pulls away.

“You should rest, Cas,” He says flatly and Cas’ head jerks back in surprise.

“Dean, what is wrong?” Cas’ brow furrows as he stares. “Did I do something to upset you?” Cas tilts his head, looking so adorably confused that Dean has to clench his eyes closed to remain immune.

“Go Cas, go be with your brothers. With Inias,” Dean says as he shakes his head. He presses his lips into a flat line to hide his frown and he turns to stalk away before Cas can argue with him.

This is for Cas’ own good.

“Dean!” Cas hurries to catch up with Dean after a moment of stunned silence but Dean doesn’t stop to wait. “Dean!” Cas bites as he grips Dean’s uninjured shoulder to pull him around.

Dean’s heart stutters and he nearly loses his resolve as he takes in the little crease between Cas’ brows and the way his eyes are hard and wary to mask his confusion.

“Dean, what is wrong?” Cas says slowly as he stares into Dean’s eyes.

Cas must know that those perfectly blue eyes are a drug that he is powerless to resist. He’s drawn into that deep gaze and pinned in place to be examined. Dean is certain that his entire soul is on display for Cas’ inspection.

Surely, he’ll be found wanting and discarded.

“Cas, don’t,” Dean says as he swallows thickly against the swell of guilt rising in his throat.

Cas remains silent, his eyes flitting back and forth between Dean’s and his lips purse in thought. “You think Inias would be better for me,” Cas says, somehow reading Dean’s mind and cutting straight into Dean’s heart.

Dean lets out a huff through his nose and hardens himself against his emotions. “Yes. At least he wants you.”

Cas’ lips part and he lurches forward at the waist as if Dean had physically punched him. His head shakes but Dean pulls his arm out of Cas’ grasp and all but runs in the other direction.

Cas calls after him but Dean shakes his head and continues. “No, Cas. Stay away,” He says over his shoulder without daring to meet Cas’ gaze.

Cas should be glad. Dean is letting him go like Cas had wanted all along.

Dean finds a tree and settles against it with a huff.

Cas doesn’t come after him, and apart from a glare from Gabriel, Dean is left to his own devices.

Which is fine.

Really.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *runs and hides* Please forgive me


	16. A Change of Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's rejection stings, but that isn't going to stop Cas from trying. Luckily, Gabriel has a plan that Dean is going to hate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning for blood and violence

Cas stares at Dean’s retreating back with a yawning cavern opening slowly in his gut. Dean’s glare was so hard, his tone so final, Cas doesn’t understand how this could have happened.

What could have changed so suddenly?

Prickling tears burn in his eyes and his heart aches with the pain of unexpected rejection.

He knows Dean cares for him. He _knows_ he does.

He thought Dean loved him. He said he did.

Dean’s whispered affections must have been nothing more than words he thought Cas wanted to hear.

Dean’s gotten what he wanted from him and now Cas has been thrown away like trash.

“What happened?” Sam comes to a stop next to Cas as he wipes away his wayward tears with the back of his hand.

Cas grinds his teeth for a moment and refuses to look at Sam. “Dean doesn’t want me.” His voice is rough, even to his ears, and he’s certain that Sam notices.

“That,” Sam says before turning to Cas with a worried frown. “That can’t be right.”

Cas scoffs and clenches his jaw. “I’m just a toy to him, one he’s grown bored with and thrown away.” Cas clenches his fists and turns away to find his brothers. He doesn’t need Sam’s sympathy.

He finds some of the former monks gathered at the edge of the clearing not far from the Viking warriors who are stretched out on the grass-covered earth, feigning sleep to find a bit of rest.

The air in their impromptu camp is heavy with tension and Cas does not miss the furtive glances he receives as he edges past everyone.

Let them wonder.

He’ll be gone soon.

If Dean doesn’t want him, then there is no point in staying once this is over.

He won’t go home, but surely, he can carve out a place for himself somewhere.

If he can survive here, he can survive anywhere.

“You are troubled,” Ephraim observes when Cas dumps himself onto a fallen log at the edge of the clearing.

The opposite edge from where Dean entered the forest, thank you very much.

Cas regards his stoic brother with a sense of frustration. Just once, Cas would like to see some emotion from Ephraim but he doubts the man is capable. “I’m fine,” Cas finally says brusquely.

Ephraim frowns but nods. “Where is Dean?” He asks and Cas’ jaw clenches tighter.

Cas’ skin feels too tight and he wants to claw it off in an effort to avoid the tears threatening to spill. “I don’t care.” He folds his arms over his chest and stubbornly refuses to meet anyone’s eyes.

By now, Ezekiel and Balthazar are watching closely and Cas doesn’t miss the concerned look shared between them.

Inias comes and settles at Cas’ side, serenely resting a hand on Cas’ knee.

The weight of the unwelcome hand on his body burns and makes his stomach roil with anger. He glares at his brother and jerks away from his touch with a scowl. “Do not touch me,” Cas says venomously.

No matter what Dean might think, Cas doesn’t want just anyone and he most certainly does not want Inias.

“Castiel,” Inias says softly, clearly taken aback by Castiel’s words and tone. “What happened? Did Dean harm you?”

Cas lets out a bitter laugh and turns away. “Leave me alone, Inias,” Cas says through clenched teeth. Dean thinks Inias would be better for him?

Dean is an idiot.

“Castiel, brother, you worry me,” Inias says, laying a light hand on Cas’ shoulder.

“I am not yours to worry about.” Cas pushes to his feet with a snarl and moves away from the circle of his brothers to find somewhere more secluded. He doesn’t want to speak with anyone right now.

He meanders through the edge of the clearing, weaving his way through the trees until he finds a wide trunk of pine that stretches higher than he can see in the dim twilight. A soft bed of leaves and pine needles pads the base and Cas uses his hand to smooth enough space to sit.

His knees draw against his chest automatically and he wraps his arms around himself, wishing he were anywhere but here. His thoughts drift to Gadreel and how he dove in front of that arrow…Cas wishes he hadn’t. What was the point?

For him to live only to be cast aside and left unwanted?

Tears fall unbidden and roll down his cheeks unchecked. He finally gave Dean a part of himself that he hadn’t thought he could and apparently that was all Dean wanted from him.

All this time, everything Dean has done to him and then made amends for. This was only some sort of sick game designed for Castiel to lose.

Well, no longer.

If Dean doesn’t want him, fine.

He will help with the plan to make Dean the Jarl of Laugar and then he will leave.

“Cassie,” Gabriel finds him after the sun has fully disappeared and the world is lit only by the light of the half-moon. His voice is a mere whisper in the night that Cas doesn’t deign to acknowledge.

He knows Gabe will tell him what is on his mind whether Cas wants to hear him or not.

Instead, he stares upward through the trees, seeking out the only source of light in the night sky apart from the unfathomable number of stars. The pale moon in the inky black sky only serves to make Cas feel more uneasy.

Something about the simple darkness in the wild of the forest sets his teeth on edge. The trees are teeming with all manner of unknown creatures that could tear him limb from limb and he has nothing to defend himself with.

Not even Dean.

Cas thought he knew what he wanted, he finally let himself give in to what he had thought would make him happy.

And yet here he is.

Alone.

He finally turns his head and stares up at Gabriel, his eyes reddened and burning with tears that he prefers no one see.

In the darkness, Cas is sure Gabriel won’t be able to see them anyway.

Gabriel settles onto the ground next to him and Cas stews in the silence between them.

“Dean played me for a fool,” Cas eventually says, his voice weak and rough around the words.

Gabriel shakes his head. “Dean is an idiot. He loves you, Cassie. That much is plain for anyone to see.”

Cas huffs bitterly and turns his head to stare into the forest beyond.

Gabriel turns his chin skyward. “Good Lord, please grant me the patience to not throttle my brother.”

“Gabriel, Dean made his wishes perfectly clear. He does not want me.” Cas folds his arms over his chest and glares at Gabe with all the force of an offended kitten.

Gabriel huffs and swats the back of Cas’ head lightly. “You’re both idiots.”

Cas snags a twig off the ground and abuses it between his fingertips. The overwhelming pit of dread in his heart hurts like nothing he’s ever experienced.

At least physical pain is something he knows how to deal with.

This deep and unabashed hurt has nowhere to go and he’s certain that no ointment exists that could help sooth this kind of pain.

Gabriel lets him stew in silence while he decimates the small twig. Once the tiny pieces of bark are littering the ground between Cas’ knees and the green wood lies in shreds, Cas lets out a heavy sigh and shakes his head in defeat.

“Do you love him?” Gabriel finally asks, his tone open and earnest as he stares ahead into the forest.

Cas sighs and drops his head back against the tree he’s been leaning on for what feels like hours. The admission dancing on the tip of his tongue burns in his throat and stings his eyes.

Gabriel takes a glance toward Cas and nods. “Well, in that case.” Gabriel stands and dusts off his hands on his linen trousers. “We shouldn’t wait here and let them get themselves killed.”

Castiel looks up at Gabe and blinks. “What are you talking about?”

Gabe lets out a huff through his nose that borders on a snort. “We know Metatron better than these Norsemen. Do you think he hasn’t already made a study of Dean and his reactions?”

Cas sucks in a sharp breath and swallows hard as he stares up at his brother. “He’ll have anticipated Dean’s plan and warned Asmodeus.” Cas knows his brother and the man’s scheming all too well. Metatron is clever and devious. A master manipulator.

He will be two steps ahead of everyone and if he has Asmodeus’ ear, their plan will fail.

Gabriel nods with a knowing smile. “We need to surprise them. Do something…unexpected. Are you up for an adventure, Cassie?”

Cas pushes to his feet and swallows hard. He will do whatever it takes to protect Dean. Even if Dean doesn’t return his feelings. “What are you planning?”

Gabriel gives him a gleeful smile and gestures for Cas to follow him through the darkness. “Come with me.”

Cas takes a steadying breath and nods. Gabriel might be a bit manic at times, but Cas has never won a chess match against him and he pities anyone who thinks they could best Gabriel when it comes to subterfuge.

“Where are we going?” Cas asks softly, careful to keep his voice too low to be heard through the trees.

“Laugar. I’ll explain when we get a little further away,” Gabriel says just as softly. “Hurry, they’re waiting for us.” Gabe reaches out a hand to wave Cas forward.

“Who?” Cas asks before he sees and he comes up short when he lifts his gaze to take in those gathered around. Alfie, Inias, Balthazar, and two of the Norse warriors under Benny’s command. Cas doesn’t know their names, has never bothered to learn, but here they stand, waiting for Gabriel’s direction.

Cas furrows his brows and looks to his brother with confusion written across his features.

“Alright boys, you ready to kick some ass?” Gabriel rubs his hands together with a wild glint in his eyes and a devious smile.

The men gathered all nod firmly and Cas’ stomach lurches in a way that makes him think he’s about to be ill. He pushes down his queasiness and follows the group.

With Gabe at the helm, they’re in for one hell of a night.

He almost pities Asmodeus and his supporters.

“Wait, what are you doing?” Cas jerks away and faces the Norse man who grabbed him with an incredulous glare.

Gabe huffs and shakes his head as he holds his hands behind his back for the other man to bind. “Just let him tie you, Cassie. I’ll explain everything.”

\---

*Dean*

Dean finds a tree to lean against and stays there. No matter how much Dean’s insides twist or how his heart aches to find Cas and apologize, Cas needs to understand that he’s better off with his own kind.

Someone who understands his caring nature and personal values.

Not someone who Cas views as a monster.

“Dean,” Sam says as he approaches. His heavy footfalls rustle the leaves under his feet, not trying to be stealthy.

Dean tenses and steadies his gaze on the ground in front of him. “What, Sam?” Dean demands without looking up to meet his brother’s disappointed gaze.

“What was all that about? What did you say to Cas?” Sam puts his hands on his hips and stares down at Dean with arched brows.

Dean’s insides squirm. Anger radiates from his brother in palpable waves that Dean cannot begin to ignore and yet he valiantly tries. “Only what he needed to hear.”

“Dean…” Sam warns and Dean can easily imagine the pinched frown he’s being assaulted with. “Cas was pissed. Whatever you said, you need to apologize.”

“I don’t need to do anything, Sam!” Dean looks up to glare at his brother. Sam doesn’t understand. He never will. Cas was not meant for the life that Dean inflicted upon him.

None of the monks were.

“Do you want to go into tomorrow on bad terms with him? Whatever is wrong, you can fix it. Just go talk to him!” Sam grouses, his tone rising in pitch as he continues his little tirade.

Dean shakes his head and wholeheartedly rejects Sam’s words. “It’s better this way.”

“You…you told him you didn’t want him. Didn’t you? Gods, Dean, you’re an idiot! Why would you do that?!” Sam finally catches on and if Dean thought Sam was angry before, he knows his brother is now.

“He’s better off without me!” Dean barks as he pushes to his feet to stare his brother down. Sam’s superior height is of little consequence. Dean will make him understand.

Sam pinches the bridge of his nose and drops his chin to glare at the ground. He lets out a heavy sigh that automatically has Dean tensing in anticipation. “I don’t know how you can say that, you self-sacrificing moron! He loves you!”

Dean scoffs and shakes his head. Cas can’t love him. Not for real. “He only thinks he does. It’s not real.”

Sam lets out a strangled sound and holds his hands up to mock strangle his brother. “You are such a dumbass.” Sam turns on his heel and stomps away, entirely done with this conversation and Dean is glad to see him go.

He settles back against his tree with an angry huff and crosses his ankles with his arms folded over his chest. Sam doesn’t understand.

Dean’s thoughts circle around Cas and the hurt look in his wide blue eyes when Dean told him to leave. Cas may not see it now, but he will. He just needs a little time and he’ll wisen up and fall back into Inias’ arms.

Where he belongs.

The night passes tortuously slow, Dean’s mood only darkened by the gloom around him. Eventually, he forces his thoughts to turn away from Cas and onto the battle ahead.

The plan for the first group to go in and quietly gather those loyal to Dean is exceedingly simple. Asmodeus’ ego won’t allow him to believe they would deceive him and they’ll open the way for the next round of their reinvasion.

By the time Dean and Sam enter with Gabriel and Cas, Benny should have everything locked down and Asmodeus running scared for Dean to corner.

The night drags on, seemingly endless, as his thoughts circle and his chest aches with the pain of loss.

Samuel is dead. Laugar is Dean’s responsibility now and he’s sitting in the forest instead of building his father’s pyre.

He is a terrible son.

Well, grandson. He can’t believe Cas knew all this time and never said anything.

Dean shakes his head before burying his face in his hands.

He’s a prince. Or, was, at least. The crown prince of Wessex.

Unbelievable.

But he has no reason to doubt Cas was being truthful. Who Dean might have been means nothing in the face of what he is. Even if he wanted to, he cannot go back to Wessex and demand the throne. He would be executed without question.

His place is here and he has a job to do.

Dean finally gives up his self-imposed exile from the group when the first rays of dawn begin to lighten the forest and the birds begin their joyful song announcing the coming of another day.

He wishes he could pelt them with stones and restore the nighttime silence to the forest.

“Dean!” Benny calls through the trees and Dean’s heart quickens with a jolt.

He knows his friend too well to not recognize that tone.

“Benny!” Dean calls out as he starts to run toward their makeshift camp. His heart races and dire possibilities fly through his head, each one worse than the last.

“Benny,” Dean says, his chest heaving with exertion. His shoulder throbs and he’s certain that blood is seeping through the improvised bandages but he doesn’t have time to worry about that.

He comes to a skidding halt at the edge of the clearing and notices the gathered group is considerably smaller than he remembers.

“They left,” Benny says plainly as he gestures around. “Most of the monks and two of my men. They left.”

Dean’s lips part and his brows scrunch as he looks around. “Where’s Cas?” He asks, spinning in place as if he’s somehow overlooked the man his gaze is always drawn to. His heart hammers wildly with worry but then he notices Inias is also gone. Maybe Cas finally came to his senses.

Ezekiel scoffs and shakes his head. “Cas left with the rest of them.”

Dean catches Sam’s gaze and immediately recognizes the determined look on his face. “What’d you do, Sam. Where are they?” Dean storms over to his brother and glares, toe to toe.

Sam lets out a disbelieving huff and shakes his head in a way that immediately raises Dean’s hackles. “Gabriel brought up some good points.” Sam shrugs.

“What. Did. You. Do.” Dean punctuates each word with a stab of his finger against the center of Sam’s chest and his eyes blaze with fury.

Sam glares right back, unimpressed by Dean’s outrage. “I did nothing.”

“Boys, come on. We don’t have time to argue. The longer we wait, the harder this is gonna be. Especially with fewer numbers.” Benny gets in between the brothers and holds up his hands in a placating gesture.

His eyes beg for patience but his jaw is set firm in a clear demand for compliance.

“Where are they, Sam?” Dean demands of his brother, not bothering to spare Benny a glance. Dean tries to shove down his worries, but if Cas left with Gabriel then nothing good can come of it.

Especially if they left with two Norse warriors.

His breaths come in deep heaves as he stares down his brother but Sam shows no sign of concern.

“Gabriel had a good plan. They went back already.” Sam folds his arms over his chest and stares down at Dean.

There is a touch of fear swirling in Sam’s hazel eyes, Dean cannot pretend not to notice. “What was the plan, Sam?!” He yells and Sam flinches.

“Gabe and Cas, they need to be on the inside…” Sam starts but Dean’s fists clench and he growls his outrage before Sam can finish.

“Dammit, Sam!” Dean yells, getting in his brother’s face. His heart hammers in his chest and the edges of his vision darken with rage even as panic begins to set in. Cas is out there, unprotected. They need to hurry.

“I don’t like it either, Dean, but I trust Gabriel. He’s right about this and I know it.” Sam steps into Dean’s path and shoves him backward. “We can’t afford to make them sit out of this.”

Dean clenches his jaw and shakes his head. “If Cas gets hurt, this is on you.”

Yes. He cares about Cas. He would be devastated if something happens to him.

That doesn’t mean that Cas wouldn’t be better off without him.

Cas isn’t the problem here.

“We continue as planned.” Dean glares at Benny as if he’s to blame for Sam going behind his back and undermining his authority. His face burns and his vision narrows to darkened tunnels as he glares at each man in turn.

Ephraim arches a quizzical brow and mostly ignores Dean’s tirade while Ezekiel tests the weight of the weapons available to them.

Dean can’t help but wonder why they stayed behind when the rest of their brothers abandoned camp.

Abandoned Dean.

He swallows hard against the ugly burn in his chest and shakes his head.

What’s done is done. Dean has more important things to worry about.

“Move out!” Dean gives the order and strides across the clearing and into the trees without checking to see if anyone is following. He knows they will.

The walk to Laugar passes in silence and the tension seeps deeper into Dean’s shoulders the longer they walk.

When the trees begin to thin, he silently signals for Benny his men he to go ahead and begin phase two of their plan. Dean only hopes that they’re enough.

“Uh, Dean…” Benny says, just a handful of steps ahead.

“What?” Dean bites as quietly as he can.

Benny swallows hard and licks his lips. “You, uh, you ought to see this,” He says and his eyes dart in the direction of the village.

Dean huffs and pushes forward but he comes to a sudden halt when he takes in what Benny was indicating.

Smoke rises in the distance, deep black and ugly enough to blot out the blue of the sky behind it. There is only one place smoke like that could come from. “The forge. They’re burning the forge.” Dean's eyes go wide and his jaw goes slack as his heart hammers.

Dean wanders onward, eyes wide and disbelieving. Benny and the others follow close behind. “We need,” Dean says through a heaving breath. “We need to go. Now.”

Sam nods blindly, looking on with an expression nearly as shocked as Dean.

“My God,” Ezekiel declares as the smoke begins to thicken. He blinks in surprise as Dean turns to face him.

“Did you know they were going to burn everything?” Dean hisses angrily, hardened green eyes scorching with anger.

Zeke shakes his head. “They aren’t,” He says, swallowing hard. “Or, weren’t.”

Dean growls at that and turns to Sam. “I swear to the gods, Sam, if Cas is hurt…”

Sam holds up his hands in surrender. “Yeah, Dean. I know.”

Dean huffs and turns away. He expects the others will follow and he takes his sword in hand. The pain in his shoulder is nearly blinding but that means little. He forges ahead until the forest thins around them and the outer buildings of the village can be seen through the thin branches.

Dean stops and swallows hard.

He was wrong. It wasn’t the forge.

Black smoke pours upward from boats pushed from their moorings into the water and a roar of shouting can be heard from the beach. Dean signals everyone to move forward.

They trace the edge of the village, searching for Asmodeus and Azazel but they’re nowhere to be seen. A stone sits heavily in Dean’s stomach and a strong feeling of wrong blooms around it.

“The house,” Dean says softly and Sam nods with a frown. He signals for the others to follow but a low chuckle stops him in his tracks.

Dean swallows hard and turns, catching the almost yellow eyes of his cousin standing with a knife to Benny’s throat.

“Welcome home, Dean,” Azazel says with a smirk.

“Let him go.” Dean readies his sword and steps forward.

Azazel tilts his head back with a laugh and Ezekiel takes his moment of distraction to lunge forward and kick at the man’s knees.

Azazel laughs, his blade leaving a fine trail of red across Benny’s throat as he stumbles away. “Little monk has some bite,” He sneers as he turns himself to keep Ezekiel in his sights.

“He’s got a lot more than that,” Dean challenges. “You were foolish to come out here alone.”

Azazel cocks a brow. “Who said I’m alone?”

The trees rustle and a half dozen men step out of the bushes brandishing swords and axes.

Dean sucks in a breath with wide eyes as Benny regains his footing and Zeke holds his defensive position next to Sam.

They’re surrounded.

“Time to meet your new Jarl,” Azazel says smoothly. “We have some new toys I’m sure you’ll _love_ to see.”

Dean’s stomach lodges in his throat but he has no choice but to follow. There are too many enemies here, his small group isn’t enough to overtake them.

“Sam,” Dean says softly as he holds his hands up.

“Yeah, Dean,” Sam says, glancing sideways at Dean as he holds his ax high.

“Got a plan?” Dean asks, swallowing hard.

Sam frowns and swallows hard as he gives his head a jerk to the side. “Just one.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Care to share it?”

“You have to challenge him,” Sam says and Dean’s heart sinks.

He’s less than half of Asmodeus’ age but he’s injured. His left arm lacks the strength to support him in hand to hand combat.

He isn’t going to have a chance.

Dean swallows hard and nods.

He has to win.

Dean’s thoughts stew and his rage simmers as they’re marched through the village. Curious eyes look upon them and several men and women give Dean firm nods that promise support if he can create an opportunity.

Dean clenches his jaw as they follow in Azazel’s path. A handful of warriors take up the rear but Dean notices most of them are slaves. The majority of his men are nowhere in sight. A sickening pit churns and yawns in Dean’s stomach as he glances around.

Other than the boats burning just off shore, the village seems surprisingly calm considering the coup that occurred less than a day ago.

“Dean,” Sam whispers. “Where is everyone?”

Dean glances at his brother and shrugs. “Dunno, Sammy.”

“Something ain’t right,” Benny says softly as he rubs the faint line of blood welling along the shallow cut on his throat.

Dean nods absently.

Benny isn’t wrong and Dean’s skin crawls as the possibilities run through his thoughts.

“Dean, Dean, Dean,” Asmodeus says with a grin. “Welcome home, nephews. We thought you took the cowards way out. I’m pleased to see you return to face your defeat with dignity.”

Dean scowls and glares. “I would hate to miss your funeral.”

“Ohhh, feisty. I like it. So much more spunk than your little friend here,” Asmodeus says as he gestures toward the door.

Dean’s blood runs cold as the door is ripped open and Cas is shoved through. His hands are bound tightly behind him and blood drips from his nose and brow. His face is red and mottled, eyes glistening with tears as he’s shoved to his knees.

“Let him go.” Dean steps forward and growls the words as his hand comes to rest on the hilt of his sword.

“Dean,” Cas says with a sob. His voice is deeper and rougher than usual, worn hoarse from screaming and Dean’s stomach flops with nausea.

“Now why would I do that? I thought perhaps it would do you good to watch him die.” Asmodeus buries his fingers in Cas’ hair, making him cry out as Asmodeus drags him closer.

Cas trembles in Asmodeus’ grip. “Please,” He says softly, nearly begging. “Don’t.”

Castiel is so brave, so strong, Dean hadn’t thought he would ever see the look of terror grace his fine features as starkly as it is now.

“Enough!” Dean shouts as he stares in horror at the scene before him.

Asmodeus drops Cas and the monk crumples to the ground with a sob. He turns toward Dean and Sam with a sneer. “Perhaps one isn’t enough of a message.”

As the words leave his mouth, Gabriel is shoved from the longhouse in much the same condition as Cas. His sandy brown hair is matted and stained red and his eyes are glazed over and unfocused.

“Gabe!” Sam shouts, the panic lacing his tone telling Dean that this wasn’t part of his scheming plan with the man.

“Stop this!” Dean demands as he braces his brother from running forward.

“Why would I want to do that?” Asmodeus asks and Azazel snickers as he comes to his father’s side. “I’m Jarl now, Dean. Your opinion means less than nothing.”

“I challenge you in single combat, Asmodeus. You are not the rightful leader of our people and I will not stand by while you steal the Jarldom,” Dean says flatly, loud enough for all to hear.

“No! Dean!” Cas screams and Azazel silences him with a harsh kick that has Cas clenching his jaw and doubling over in pain.

“Enough,” Azazel snaps and Cas scurries as far away as he can while surrounded by Azazel’s followers.

Dean holds up a hand, asking for a moment, and tries to calm his racing heart. It's only then that Dean finally notices the two men standing guard over Cas and Gabriel.

The same two Norse warriors who fled with Dean and left with the monks in the middle of the night.

Dean glares murderously at Knude, a man he thought was trustworthy and he’s met with a discreet shake of his head and muted gesture to Cas. His glare narrows and his outrage rises.

These men handed Cas and Gabe over to gain favor from Asmodeus.

They too shall die.

“You wish to challenge me? Very well. I accept,” Asmodeus says, his voice cutting through Dean’s anger and drawing his attention back to the task at hand.

A large crowd has gathered, their voices hushed as they look on nervously and Dean is certain that many of these people are not from Laugar.

There are too many strangers in the crowd, too many unfamiliar faces in a place Dean has called home since he was a small boy.

Asmodeus had help.

Dean’s people hadn’t turned on him, his family was usurped by outsiders.

Dean growls low in his throat. It is his duty to fight for his people and he will gladly do so.

Asmodeus steps forward and Cas meets Dean’s eyes one more time. The fear has suddenly vanished, replaced by grim determination. Cas swallows hard and gives Dean a firm nod and a strange slow blink that has Dean’s breath catching.

Dean glances at Gabriel and gets much the same reaction, except Gabriel’s wink and encouraging nod are easier to read and Dean’s brow furrows in confusion.

Gabriel mouths _GO_ to him and Dean’s confusion only grows.

The space around Dean grows as Asmodeus steps into the open circle swinging his sword lazily.

Dean’s eyes narrow when he realizes that his uncle wields Jarl Samuel’s sword. It should belong to Sam now, not held in Asmodeus’ hands.

Dean has every intention of taking it back.

Sam and Benny are herded backward with the rest of their small group of loyalists, Asmodeus’ followers surrounding them with swords and axes held at the ready.

Azazel stands in front of Cas and Gabe, arms folded over his chest in the center of their makeshift stage, not paying attention to the beaten and bloody slaves as they creep away from the center of attention.

Dean’s eyes follow Cas’ line of sight and he notices the small dagger held firmly at Knude’s side, the tip pointed vaguely toward Cas as the man scoots toward it silently on his knees.

Dean’s chest swells as his gaze darts between the two men.

The dagger in Knude’s hand is the same one that Dean gave to Castiel.

They have a plan.

Dean sends a quick prayer to Odin and Thor, asking for the strength to deliver justice. He begs the Valkyries for their favor and protection, if only to see him survive this fight and ensure Cas’ freedom.

Dean readies his sword and circles his uncle, eyeing his weathered features and scraggly white beard with distaste. The man is over twice Dean’s age but his form well-practiced by decades of battle.

A lesser man would think that Asmodeus’ age, he would be at a disadvantage, but Dean knows better.

His uncle is fierce and strong.

They circle and eye each other with malice while Dean catalogs each movement in a search of weakness. Asmodeus favors his left side slightly, the only remaining sign of a very old injury. Dean lunges forward and spins at the last second, dodging his uncle’s jab and positioning himself slightly behind the other man.

Asmodeus spins and slashes, nearly catching Dean’s shin but Dean bounces back just fast enough.

In a single smooth motion, Asmodeus lunges and swings his blade, catching Dean’s shirt and leaving a fine welt of blood welling along Dean’s chest.

Dean grins, falling into a well-practiced rhythm. The rest of the world falls away as they exchange glancing blows, each one drawing closer and more dangerous than the last.

Dean’s head swims with the pain in his shoulder and his body trembles but his focus remains true.

Asmodeus lets out a strangled yelp of pain as the sharp edge of Dean’s wyvern sword cuts deep into his side and crimson fluid quickly spreads against the white linen of his loose-fitting shirt.

Dean grins and stalks his prey as Asmodeus stumbles backward, clutching his side.

Dean glances at Cas and notices his hands are now free as he steps close behind Azazel with his dagger clutched tightly in his hand. The look of determination etched across Cas’ features has Dean’s stomach lurching.

“Dean! Look out!” Sam yells and Dean’s attention returns as he curses violently.

Asmodeus brings his sword down against Dean’s injured shoulder, his moment of distraction costing him dearly as pain explodes through his arm and neck. He can feel the wetness of blood dripping down his side and he swallows hard as his legs buckle and he falls to his knees.

“NO!” Sam screams and Asmodeus laughs as he comes to stand over Dean.

He yanks his sword from Dean’s shoulder and Dean’s arm becomes too weak to keep the grip on his own. The gleaming blade lands harshly on the red-stained ground and Dean tilts his chin upward to face his uncle.

If this is how it ends, Dean will face death bravely.

A sudden scream and struggle from the front of the longhouse has Asmodeus glancing away and Dean reacts before his mind catches up to his actions.

He grabs the hilt of his sword and squeezes as tightly as he can as he drives the point of his sword upward with as much force as he can muster, tearing through the tender flesh of Asmodeus’ stomach.

Silence reigns around them as Asmodeus chokes and sputters. His wide eyes stare down at the sword driven through his body and Dean snarls his satisfaction. He jerks his sword upward, sliding the blade a little farther through his Uncle’s soft insides and he twists, drawing a strangled scream from Asmodeus.

His uncle’s sword falls to the ground as the man wraps his hands around Dean’s blade, trying to push himself off the deadly weapon.

It’s too late.

The fight is over.

Dean smirks and glares as he shoves forward, knocking Asmodeus to the ground and the Wyvern sword slides from his body with a sickening squelch.

Asmodeus collapses onto his back, the red stain underneath him growing quickly as Dean forces himself to his feet.

He holds his sword tightly, not daring to loosen his grip for fear of losing it entirely. His arm is weak and his shirt saturated with blood flowing freely from the deep wound on his shoulder. His entire body shudders with the pain, but he stands above his dying uncle with a firm jaw and determination burning in his eyes.

“You will never rule, Asmodeus,” Dean says, loud enough for all to hear.

“Let Odin see that I stand victorious.” Dean hefts his sword and brings the point down into Asmodeus’ throat, nearly severing his head. A gurgle of blood erupts from his uncle’s mouth and he chokes on his last breaths as he stares unseeingly skyward.

Cheers erupt around him and Sam’s booming voice demands compliance from Asmodeus’ followers but Dean has only one thing on his mind.

He lifts his gaze and searches even as his legs wobble and threaten to collapse. His eyes land on the sight of wild blue eyes running toward him and Dean knows his job is complete.

Cas’ mouth moves but Dean doesn’t hear, he only notices the bloody dagger clenched tightly in Cas’ hand and the spray of crimson adorning his dirty linen shirt.

Behind him, Azazel’s corpse lays prone and Gabriel stands with Balthazar, holding Metatron at sword point.

“Dean!” Sam calls just as Dean drops to his knees in the dirt.

Cas collides with him, skidding on his knees and throwing his arms around Dean’s shoulders with a sob that Dean cannot hear.

Dean clutches as tightly to Cas as his injured body allows and he buries his nose in the crook of the monk’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Cas.” Dean chokes on the words. He can taste blood in the back of his throat and steady hands begin to pry him away from Cas.

Dean protests the prying touch with a growl but Sam’s voice firmly orders him to stop struggling. He grumbles something unintelligible, still reaching for Cas, but the world has gone fuzzy around the edges and he doesn’t have the strength to fight.

“You’re hurt, Dean, let him help,” Cas says softly and Dean’s attention fixates on those words even as his mind asks questions that his lips cannot quite form.

Dean feels the presence of Valkyries gathering around him and he relaxes into their hold. Their soft embrace carries him into darkness and Dean doesn’t fight.

His job is done.

\---

*Cas*

“Step back brother, I need space to work.” Ephraim pushes him away gently but Cas clings tightly to Dean’s hand with tears choking his lungs.

His eyes water and lip trembles as he shakes his head. “Don’t let him die,” he begs and kicks out when strong arms wrap around his middle and forcibly pull him away.

“Come on, Cassie. Let’s get you cleaned up while Ephraim works. You can’t help him right now.” Balthazar’s voice is gentle in his ear and Cas blinks away his tears.

“Where’s Gabriel?” Cas croaks, his voice sounding foreign to his own ears.

Balthazar spins him and gestures to where Gabe and Sam stand in the middle of the clearing, arms wrapped tightly around each other with Sam’s nose buried in the crook of Gabe’s neck. “I think he’s just fine…” Balthazar smirks and Cas glares at his brother’s flippant tone.

“Dean…” Cas starts but Balthazar steers him away with a grunt.

“Those brutes did a number of you, we need to get you cleaned up. Don’t want Dean waking up to see you covered in blood.” Balthazar babbles and steers Cas toward the longhouse. “Now, show me where your room is.”

Cas nods dumbly and lets Balthazar lead him away. Knude follows, still dutifully protecting him, and Cas flinches a smile at the Norse warrior. He hopes the man doesn’t face retribution for his part in undermining Dean’s plan.

The three of them enter the longhouse and Cas automatically turns toward Dean’s room.

The space is exactly as he had left it the day before.

Balthazar sits him at the table and quickly gathers a bowl of clean water as he eyes the bath barrel with approval. A few quick words have Knude collecting the buckets to bring in enough water to fill the large basin. “Now, let get you cleaned up.”

Cas nods, trying to ignore the sickening pit in his stomach as he looks around the room. “Most of the blood is from a pig,” Cas mutters, looking up into Balthazar’s worried gaze with wide eyes. “Gabe, Gabe said if he pretended to already be hurt, they wouldn’t hurt us as much.”

Balthazar chuckles and shakes his head fondly. “Our brother is brilliant sometimes.” Balthazar dips a clean rag into the water before dabbing at Cas’ brow gingerly. “Don’t ever tell him I said that.”

Cas tries to chuckle but his split lip stings too much and he clenches his eyes against the pain.

Not all of his injuries are fake.

“Cassie, I know it’s hard to talk about, but did they hurt you anywhere else?” Balthazar asks and Cas shakes his head minutely as his eyes clench tightly.

He knows exactly what his brother is asking.

“They were content just to beat on me.” Never in his life had Cas thought he would be grateful to be used as a punching bag.

Bal nods and continues to wipe the blood from Cas’ face. “Good, good,” he mutters.

Knude comes and goes, bringing bucket after bucket while Balthazar builds a fire to heat the water and Cas watches despondently.

Dean is hurt, badly, and Cas can do nothing to help. He trusts Ephraim and the Norse healer to do their best but there is still a chance of the unthinkable. Each time he closes his eyes, he sees Dean laying in the dirt, pale and lifeless and the ground around him turns crimson with his blood.

He chokes back a sob and buries his head in his hands even as Balthazar pries him from his seat and sends Knude away.

“Come on, let's get you cleaned up. Can you undress or do you need help?” Balthazar leads him across the room and Cas blinks at him, barely comprehending. “You’re going to make me do all the work, aren’t you?” Balthazar teases but his tone is still kind.

Cas stares ahead and swallows hard. None of this seems real and his mind wanders, denying the events of the last day and somehow convincing himself that everything has been a dream.

Balthazar sighs and begins to undo the lacing around Cas’ collar and Cas goes like a rag doll when Bal urges him to lift his arms to help gets his shirt over his head. “You’re really going to make me do this, aren’t you?” Balthazar mutters as he starts on the lacing of Cas’ pants.

Cas shakes himself out and takes a step back. “I can do it,” he finally mutters, comprehension dawning. Bal wants to get him into the tub.

He’s covered in dirt and blood, he needs to wash.

“You can go,” Cas says as he turns his back on his brother to shuck his pants down and step into the warm water.

Bal shakes his head. “Nuh-uh. I’m not leaving you alone right now.”

Cas nods as he sinks into the steaming bath, uncaring that Bal surely got an eyeful in the process. He’s too tired to worry and he trusts Balthazar. “Do you think he’ll be okay?”

Balthazar huffs and shakes his head. “I think he’s too stubborn to die. Now, sit forward, let me wash your back.”

“I killed him,” Cas whispers, his voice small and frail. He dragged Dean’s dagger across Azazel’s throat without a second thought. He would have done the same to Marv had Gabriel not gotten to him first.

His shoulders tremble as Balthazar runs water over his bare skin, gently scrubbing away the filth with little more than an agreeing hum.

Cas’ breath shudders and he shakes his head. “I murdered a man and I don’t regret it. What’s wrong with me?” He twists his head around to meet Balthazar’s eyes, silently pleading for reprimand.

Bal gives him a wry smile. “You did what you had to do to protect all of us.”

Cas pinches a frown and buries his face in his hands. “I’ve condemned myself to hell.”

“No.” Bal rests a hand on Cas’ shoulder to draw his attention. “God will not punish you for destroying evil.”

Cas shakes his head and hunches over in the water as he wipes his eyes with the back of his hand. He killed Azazel because he wanted him dead. Because Cas knew if he didn’t, someone else would get hurt. Asmodeus was about to kill Dean and Cas couldn’t stop the boiling rage inside of him that forced him forward, that gave him the fortitude to cut into Azazel’s throat and spill his blood.

“You saved Dean’s life you know. If you hadn’t...” Balthazar starts, giving voice to the ugly little whisper in the back of Castiel’s mind.

“No,” Cas bites as he turns to fix Balthazar with a stern look. “We don’t know that.” Dean might still die. He might die and everything Cas did today would be for nothing.

Bal pinches a frown but gives a jerky nod. “Tilt your head back so I can wash your hair.”

Cas sighs and does as he’s told. He’s never known Balthazar to be nurturing, but if any one of his brothers is going to care for him right now, he’s glad that Bal is here.

“Even if Dean doesn’t make it, which he will. I have faith in Ephraim’s ability. But even if, the Jarlship will pass to Sam. Asmodeus and Azazel are gone. They can’t hurt anyone else.” Bal slowly pours water over Cas’ head as he speaks. “You did good, Cassie.”

Cas fights back a sob. The turmoil of the last day feels distant but it is slowly inching forward. “Dean doesn’t want me anymore,” he admits. All of this was for nothing, even if Dean lives.

Balthazar snorts and pushes Cas’ head forward. “Bullshit.”

Cas turns to his brother with wide eyes and lips parted in surprise at the coarse language.

Bal rolls his eyes. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. That idiot is so in love with you he was willing to push you away because he thought you would be better off without him.”

Cas sucks in a breath and shakes his head. “I’m not. That, that isn’t his choice to make.”

Bal gives him a crooked smile and nods. “Then tell him that. Don’t let him push you away, Cassie. He needs you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're almost there! I'm getting ready to go on vacation, so I will be posting the final chapter on SUNDAY next week instead of my usual day.


	17. Stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean wakes up and Cas makes his feelings clear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are...the end. I want to thank you all for taking this journey with me, I appreciate every single one of you.
> 
> The only warning is a little NSFW section and lots of fluffy, mushy, sweetness

The first thing Dean is aware of is pain.

It begins as a dull ache tugging him into consciousness, a simple awareness that draws him forward from his sleep into a hazy consciousness

Slowly, persistently, the sensation grows as the fuzzy edges of his thoughts begin to sharpen and his eyes twitch behind his eyelids, not yet willing to open.

His entire body throbs with an agony that forcibly tells him that he’s alive.

Such misery would not persist into Valhalla.

Dean groans and turns his face toward the source of delicious warmth he can sense at his side. The only bright spot in his bleak world of darkened torment.

His hand is pressed warmly and Dean forces his eyes to blink open. If the gods deigned him worthy of life, the least he can do to thank them is to acknowledge their gift.

Bright blue stares back at him from inches away and Dean’s shallow breath catches in his throat. He swallows hard and stares, unable to form words even as an ache forms in his chest that has nothing to do with his injuries.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas says, his voice rough from disuse. Dean’s heart clenches and he forces a smile. Yellowing bruises darken Cas’ cheeks and a thick line of scabs cross his brow but his white teeth and gummy smile are what hold Dean’s attention.

“Cas,” Dean manages to croak. His throat is dry and his tongue feels like it’s grown fur, but he smiles anyway. He tries to clear his throat with a cough but his attempt only ends with a whimper born from searing pain that reminds him further of the events that must be alive.

Cas shushes him and strokes light fingers through Dean’s hair and when he glances down, Dean sees their fingers intertwined between them. Cas rests on his side, facing Dean as he stares with glassy eyes. “I thought I lost you.” Cas swallows hard around his words and clenches Dean’s hand tighter.

Dean shakes his head as much as he’s able and his eyes slide closed. “I thought you left.” The relief he felt opening his eyes to see Cas begins to sour at the thought that Cas might have stayed just to make sure that Dean will survive and he’s been waiting to leave.

Cas huffs and pulls his hand away, making Dean’s heart quicken and he does his best not to whimper. His eyes flutter open with a frown and he searches Cas’ expression, begging for an answer.

“Never,” Cas says gently as he reaches a hand to stroke his fingers through Dean’s hair.

Dean is certain he’s dreaming. “Cas,” He says again and Cas smiles.

“Shhh.” Cas continues running his fingers through Dean’s hair and leans forward to kiss him gently.

Dean does whimper then, needing to feel Cas next to him, needing the promise that he isn’t going to leave.

“Rest, Dean,” Cas says softly as Dean’s eyes slide closed. Sleep tugs at him, demanding he succumb to the oppressive weight. “I’ll be here, I promise.”

Dean nods, ignoring the deep ache permeating his body. “Don’t leave me,” he mutters, words slurred by the call of unconsciousness.

“I won’t,” Cas says softly, just loud enough for Dean to hear and he can’t help the small smile that forms over his lips when he feels the gentle press of dry lips to the center of his forehead just before the hazy world falls away once again.

\---

Dean wakes a little faster next time and he moves his hand to find the space next to him cold. “No,” he mutters, voice cracking when he realizes he must have been dreaming before. Cas is gone. Or he was never there, to begin with.

He struggles to lift his head and his shoulder lights up with searing agony that leaves him gasping as he falls back against the mattress.

“Dean!” A rough voice calls from nearby and Dean’s hammering heart stutters.

Cas.

He sucks in a ragged breath and swallows hard, words failing to come as tears burn in the corners of his eyes. He can hear footsteps approach and he chokes back a relieved sob. “Cas,” he finally manages to croak as he reaches blindly with his good arm.

“I’m right here, you’re okay,” Cas says gently as he takes Dean’s hand and knees his way onto the mattress. “You’re okay.”

Dean nods and tightens his hold on Cas’ hand to pull him closer.

Before Dean can say anything else, Cas is leaning over him and pressing their lips together. Tears flow freely from his reddened eyes and Dean wants nothing more than to kiss them all away.

Dean moans and deepens the kiss. He tries to reach for Cas but pain rips through his shoulder when he tries to move. “Cas,” Dean says with a whine. He wants nothing more than to feel Castiel’s grounding touch. He needs to feel him warm and solid under his palms to assure him that this isn’t a dream.

That Cas is really here.

Cas hums and quickly swings his leg over Dean’s waist and straddles him as their mouths work together. Dean’s hands come to rest on Cas’ sides, as high as he can reach without searing pain ruining the moment.

Cas’ hands wander and Dean hisses into the kiss when his fingers skin the fabric bandaging his shoulder. Cas pulls back sharply. “Sorry, Dean, I’m sorry,” Cas says, his eyes wide and red and glistening.

Dean shakes his head. He doesn’t care.

Cas moves to get off him with a sheepish smile but Dean tightens his grip and refuses to let go. “Cas,” Dean says, his voice barely more than a croak. “Don’t…”

Don’t move. Don’t leave. Don’t abandon me.

There are so many ways that Dean could continue that sentence but no words feel adequate. Nothing can express the sheer level of overwhelmed that Dean feels right now.

The creaking of a door opening catches his attention and both Dean and Cas look toward the source of the sound.

“Oh, shit. Sorry,” Sam says, already ducking to flee. “Glad you’re awake, Dean!” He calls over his shoulder and Dean snickers.

“Sam! Wait!” Cas calls as he scrambles from his lap, narrowly missing Dean’s groin with his knee as he stumbles from the bed. Dean grunts with the pain of Cas’ sudden movement and he presses his head back against his pillow with his eyes clenched.

Sam holds out a hand but doesn’t turn around. “That’s alright guys, I’ll come back later.”

Cas shakes his head and comes around the bed to gesture Sam closer. “You need to tell him.”

“Tell me what?” Dean asks through clenched teeth as he struggles to sit up. The endeavor proves to be more than he cares to manage and he gives up, settling flat against the bed and eyeing his brother impatiently.

Cas settles onto the edge of the bed and clutches Dean’s hand as Sam steps deeper into the room.

“Just, uh, you’ve been unanimously voted to become Jarl.” Sam picks at his fingers and gives Dean a shy smile.

Dean nods and narrows his eyes. “Since when do we vote?”

“Since, uh, I suggested it.” Sam smiles sheepishly.

“You suggested that we begin voting on who leads?” Dean finally does force himself to sit up as he fixes his brother with a disbelieving glare.

Sam nods sheepishly and lets his hands hang at his sides. “Yes. The Greeks implemented a concept called Democracy, Dean. For over a hundred years they’ve, well, they _had _great success and Gabriel was telling me...”

“The Greeks,” Dean says flatly. He is entirely unimpressed by his brother’s ramblings. Who cares about the Greeks? He only has a vague concept of the strange people who live far to the south and drink the fermented juice of grapes. He thinks he remembers hearing they are great warriors, but he isn’t certain he remembers correctly.

More importantly, he _knows_ that the Greeks have nothing to do with _them_.

“Yes, Dean. The Greeks.” Cas smiles and Dean develops the impression that he and Sam have already had this conversation.

“Alright. Fine. Either way, I’m Jarl now. Samuel is dead. Asmodeus is dead and Azazel...” Dean trails off, struggling to remember.

“That monster is dead as well,” Cas says gravely with a dark look in his eye that Dean is wholly unfamiliar with.

Dean’s attention snaps to where Cas has come to sit on the edge of the bed. “Cas, what...what happened? You were captured and then, I don’t understand?” Dean rambles, memories of that day trickling back to him. “How long has it been?”

Cas bites his lip and nods. “Ephraim brewed a syrup that kept you asleep so you could heal. We’ve been giving it to you for six days.”

Dean’s jaw goes slack and he looks to Cas in horror. “Six days? I’ve been unconscious for six days?!” Dean feels the stirrings of anger and the spike in his pulse draws attention to the blinding pain in his shoulder and he winces with a hiss.

Sam shrugs. “Not entirely. You don’t remember?”

“You were badly wounded, Dean,” Cas says as he scoots closer to Dean as if that is an excuse.

“Ephraim claimed you would heal faster if your body slept, so we only let the medicine wear off to make sure you drank some broth,” Sam says, finishing Cas’ thought.

Dean shakes his head and looks between the two with narrowed eyes. A heavy fog still hangs over his mind and he doesn’t trust the barely-there haze of memories that may have just as easily been dreams. “Tell me what happened.”

Cas takes a deep breath and readies himself. “Gabriel and I, our capture was a ruse to get close to Azazel. Gabriel knew that single combat was inevitable, so we were to be a distraction if the fight went poorly.”

Dean clenches his jaw and his mind is suddenly sharp as he processes this new information. “You intentionally put yourself in danger.” His voice is grating and tinged with anger. His heart races all over again at the memory of seeing Cas bound and bloodied, struck to his knees when Dean was powerless to help.

Cas nods. “Knude and Frode were there to protect us.”

“Protect you!” Dean exclaims. “They turned you over to Asmodeus! They’re traitors.” His tone is nearly a growl and the look in his eye turns murderous in an instant.

“Uh, Dean. So…” Sam steps closer and his gaze darts everywhere but at Dean. “They didn’t. They were following Gabriel’s orders.” Sam winces, already seeing the outburst coming his way.

Dean’s eyes widen and bulge. “Gabriel’s orders…” Dean mutters and Cas scoots into his space and gathers Dean’s hand between his own.

“You told me to leave. Gabriel had a plan and I had to do something,” Cas says quickly with desperation in his eyes.

“I told you to leave to keep you safe, not so you would be reckless,” Dean says with a scowl.

“You wanted to push me away because you thought you knew my mind better than I do. I had to prove you wrong,” Cas says, seeing through Dean’s bravado a little too easily.

Dean huffs and shakes his head. “You should still go,” Dean says even though the words threaten to destroy him. “I stole you, Cas. I was a selfish bastard and took everything from you.”

Cas lets out a rush of air through his nose and nods. “You did,” He agrees with a nod. “But I don’t care about that anymore.”

“Why not?” Dean demands with a pinched frown. “I ruined your life and now you say you love me?”

“I’m gonna go now…” Sam mumbles and backs himself toward the door as Dean’s volume rises.

Cas ignores Sam’s retreat in favor of glaring at Dean. “Yes, Dean. You ruined the life I had, but you gave me something better.”

Dean scoffs and heat rises in his cheeks regardless of the blinding pain in his upper body. “I made you a slave.”

“And you set me free.” Cas returns Dean’s glare. “In more ways than one.”

Dean drops his head and lets out a heavy sigh. He closes his eyes against the throbbing in his shoulder and the guilt eating at his soul. Cas just doesn’t understand. His head shakes slightly of its own volition but he jerks back when Cas’ gentle fingers card through his hair. Tears burn behind his eyelids and he cannot bear to look up and meet Cas’ gaze.

He doesn’t deserve Castiel’s affection.

“I love you, Dean. We cannot change how we got here but don’t throw me away because you’re convinced you’ve done me irreparable harm. You haven’t. I may not have chosen this life in the beginning, but I do now.” Cas doesn’t let Dean pull away from him. He strokes his fingers lightly through Dean’s hair until Dean finally swallows hard and nods faintly. “I choose you.”

“What about Inias?” Dean asks, his voice little more than a croak. Apparently, he isn’t able to leave well enough alone. He needs Cas to be sure. He needs Cas to understand what he’s throwing away in his determination to be with Dean.

Cas tilts his head and Dean finally opens his eyes to look at him. “What about Inias?” Cas questions innocently and Dean scowls.

How can he be so obtuse about this? “I took you from him, and him from you,” Dean answers, feeling like he’s building his own funeral pyre but he isn’t going to let Cas play dumb.

Cas scrunches his brows and frowns as he shakes his head. “I do not understand?” Cas tilts his head as he regards Dean, searching his expression for an answer. “Inias is my best friend and brother. Nothing you have done changes that.”

“You were with him, though. He still loves you and I took you from him,” Dean says, hating himself more with each word.

Cas huffs a laugh and smiles at Dean like he’s most precious idiot Cas has ever seen. “You think you came between me and Inias?” Cas asks and Dean nods. “That’s what this is all about.” Cas smiles fondly when Dean nods again.

“I love Inias, but my love for him has always been like your love for Sam. I would give my life to save his, but I could never love him as I love you,” Cas says and Dean’s heart shifts from hopeless aching to soaring in a matter of moments. “I cannot help that Inias has feelings I cannot return.” Cas shifts closer and leans into Dean’s space until their breaths mingle and Dean can feel Cas’ heartbeat underneath his open palm.

“I have never desired him as I desire you,” Cas says as he presses a gentle kiss to Dean’s lips. “You are the one I want, Dean.” Cas breathes the words against Dean’s skin as he leaves a trail of feather-light kisses across Dean’s jaw. “Please don’t push me away.”

“Cas,” Dean says, his soul full to bursting. He wraps his arm over Cas’ shoulders and pulls him close. “May the gods forgive me, but I can’t help but be selfish when it comes to you.”

“Keep me, Dean, I want to be yours,” Cas as he leans into Dean’s better side. Together, they shift to lay down with Cas’ head pillowed by Dean’s arm. “Even if you are an idiot sometimes.”

Dean sighs as his heart hammers with happiness. He has no choice but to accept Cas’ will and chuckles as the slight dig.

Cas isn’t wrong.

He is an idiot.

His fingers stroke Cas’ back as best he can while barely being able to reach, but he tries anyway. “I will keep you as long as you want me,” Dean says softly into the space between them.

His heart still aches with uncertainty but he would be a fool to keep arguing. He wants this too much.

“Good. Now, are you hungry?” Cas asks as he lifts his head to meet Dean’s eyes.

At the mere suggestion of food, Dean’s stomach lets out an angry grumble that has him huffing an amused laugh.

Cas leans forward to kiss Dean’s brow before scooting away. “I’ll be back with some stew.”

Dean nods and swallows hard as he watches Cas go.

Once he’s alone, he lets out a heavy sigh and stares up at the ceiling with too many thoughts sifting through his mind. He’s Jarl now. Samuel’s funeral should have already happened and he wasn’t present.

He’s badly injured, but he still should have been there to light the torch and send his father’s pyre adrift. Sam surely took his place, Samuel was surely sent off with honor, but tears burn behind Dean’s eyes when he considers that he failed in a son’s most sacred duty.

And then there’s Cas.

Cas risked everything to help him even after Dean pushed him away.

Dean doesn’t deserve this but he’s too weak to resist what Cas is offering.

A knock sounds on his door and Dean tries to push himself up but he falls back with a pained grunt. “Enter!” He calls out, hoping that whoever is on the other side of that heavy oak door can hear his raspy cry.

The door pushes open after a moment and Dean cranes his neck to see his visitor. “Benny,” Dean says with a smile.

The man has a long scab across his throat, but even now his injury looks mild. Dean is grateful to see his friend well.

“Glad to see you awake, brother. Gave us quite a scare.” Benny strides across the room slowly but easily. He rakes his gaze over Dean’s body but the study feels comforting and assessing rather than judgmental.

“Been better.” Dean tries again to sit up and Benny quickly steps closer to help.

Benny grips Dean’s elbow and rests his hand on the warm skin at the back of Dean’s uninjured shoulder to give him leverage and soon, Dean is sitting upright and leaning against the wall.

“Thanks, Benny,” Dean says with a nod.

“So, you’re the boss now,” Benny smirks and the light in his eyes sparkles with mirth.

Dean nods. “Looks like it. Sam said everyone voted?” Dean looks at Benny doubtfully, needing to know if Sam was being entirely truthful. He finds it hard to believe that the people of his village would embrace such a change so quickly.

Benny nods. “We did. Everyone thought it was a little strange, but you know how Sam is. When he gets an idea in his head…”

Dean huffs a laugh and smiles knowingly. “He brings out those doe eyes and everyone is powerless to resist.”

Benny laughs outright, the sound especially loud in the quiet of Dean’s room. “Exactly.” He agrees as he sits gingerly at the edge of Dean’s bed. “Ephraim will be in soon to check on you. He has barely let anyone other than Cas and Sam in here while you’ve been out.”

Dean’s brow furrows at that but Benny beats him to the question. “Took a little while to root out those still loyal to Asmodeus. Everyone thought it best to keep your visitors to a minimum until we had them rounded up.”

Dean nods absently. “Then I suppose my first order of business will be holding trials.” His mind is already racing to determine how best to handle this treachery. Samuel ruled Laugar with very little compassion, he was only slightly less vindictive than his brother, and Dean does not wish to follow in his shoes.

Benny nods. “Looks like it. I also hear you’ll have a wedding to preside over.”

Dean cocks his head and narrows his eyes in faint confusion before Benny takes pity on him.

“Ezekiel and Ingrid,” Benny says with a prompting tone. “You remember what you told him, right?”

Dean huffs and nods. “I remember. Just didn’t expect it to happen so soon.”

The door to Dean’s room opens unannounced and Ephraim slides through the open gap. “Castiel informed me that you are awake,” He says by way of greeting and Dean gives him a jerky nod.

Without another word, Ephraim steps to Dean’s bedside and dislodges Benny from his position at Dean’s side to better inspect his healing injury.

“The wound looks well. This poultice will help with the pain. Are you feeling feverish?” Ephraim asks while Dean and Benny exchanged amused looks.

Dean hisses when Ephraim presses the mashed up medicinal paste to the wound and grits out a _no_ to the question about feeling feverish. Dean feels fine other than the pain from his flesh knitting together.

Dean glances down and notices a straight row of perfect stitches holding him together and his brow furrows. “What is this?” He asks as he bats Ephraim’s hand away so he can look closer.

“Sutures.” Ephraim pulls Dean’s hand away and continues applying the poultice.

Dean frowns and Benny shrugs. After a moment, Ephraim huffs and shakes his head. “They are an ancient technique for closing wounds. It amazes me that you barbarians do not know them.”

Dean scowls and nearly shoves Ephraim from his side but the healer’s faint smirk stays his hand.

“There,” Ephraim says as he applies a clean layer of cloth bandages. “Eat the stew Castiel is bringing you and then I want to see you get up and walk around. Go outside, breathe fresh air.”

Dean scoffs but nods. He would be glad to get out of bed despite his lingering exhaustion. The aching in his bones from lying down for so many days is almost more pervasive than the agony lacing through his shoulder.

Ephraim leaves and Sam returns closely followed by Cas and the delicious smelling stew Dean was promised. The four of them discuss the goings-on of the village quietly while Dean eats a proper meal for the first time in nearly a week.

The food tastes heavenly and more than once, Cas reminds him to slow down. Dean grunts his disagreement while Sam snorts and shakes his head, grumbling about how Dean has always eaten like a pig and there is no hope for him.

Dean sticks his tongue out at his brother for that.

Never mind the mouthful of food currently stuffing his cheeks.

Or Cas’ snort of amusement while Benny rolls his eyes and grumbles about overgrown children.

These are his people. Dean doesn’t need to be all stoic and strong in front of them. He can damn well do as he pleases.

Especially if he can manage to make Cas laugh.

Each time he catches Cas watching him, he can’t help the way his lips curl into a smile and his heart patters happily. Once he’s slurped the last from his bowl, he passes it off to Sam in favor of reaching for Cas, needing his touch nearly as much as lungs need air.

After Dean eats, he’s helped from the bed and led outside. People stop to show their respects, thanking him for challenging Asmodeus and praising his victory. He leans against Cas once his body begins to tire and Cas wraps his arm around Dean’s back without hesitation.

They meander toward the water, Sam peeling off to find Gabriel and Benny leaves them to tend to his very pregnant wife. Finally, they have a moment alone and words fail to come. They aren’t necessary anyway. He leans into Cas’ side, savoring the warmth of his body and the confident way Cas holds him.

Cas is barely the same man that he was in the beginning. His fear and anger have disappeared, replaced by the steel that Dean recognized all along, buried so deep that Cas hadn’t known it was there.

Dean is so proud.

He leans his head toward Cas, his lips ghosting over the shell of Cas ear. “I love you so much,” he whispers, heart absolutely aching with the emotion behind his words. “So brave, so strong, so beautiful,” he continues even as Cas tenses and shakes his head.

“Dean,” Cas mutters and Dean doesn’t need to see his face to recognize the eyeroll in his voice.

“It’s true, Cas. All true.” Dean smiles as he pulls back and lets Cas lead him toward a log set a few paces from the water along the rocky beach.

“Sit,” Cas urges him down and Dean sees no reason to resist. The pain in his shoulder is steadily building into an all-consuming, nauseating, agony that has him clenching his eyes but he isn’t ready to return to bed yet. Not with the sun slowly dropping over the horizon and Cas pressed against his side.

\---

The following days pass much the same as Dean heals and grows stronger.

The trials for Asmodeus’ followers pass unremarkably. Dean sentences them all to banishment and they go without protest, not wanting to live under Dean’s rule in the first place.

Cas beams with pride glowing in his eyes as Dean hands down the sentences and Dean finds himself almost insulted that Cas thought Dean would slaughter them all. Later that night, then they find themselves wrapped up in each other on Dean’s gigantic bed, Dean forgets to complain about Cas’ surprise at his mercy.

Two weeks after he becomes Jarl, Dean presides over Ezekiel’s marriage to Ingrid and Cas glows as he stands witness. The newlyweds decide to stay in Laugar and Dean shakes his head with amused annoyance when Ezekiel admits he only suggested they leave to test Dean’s resolve.

Dean is glad to have them stay.

The season is beginning to shift, the nights have grown cooler and Dean has been forced to find heavier layers for Cas to wear to keep him from making good on his threat to begin wearing his robes once again.

Dean would rather burn the ugly brown sack of a garment than let Cas wear it again. Unless, of course, Cas _really_ wanted to.

Although, Dean won’t voice that admission.

“Dean?” Cas asks the night following the beginning of Ezekiel’s wedding. The wedding party will continue for several days still, but a day of feasting, drinking, and celebrating as left Cas warm and sleepy at Dean’s side.

“Hmm?” Dean hums as he runs his fingers up and down Cas’ back. They’re snuggled close together in their bed with watching the roaring fireplace cast a soft orange glow to the room.

“Have you ever thought about marriage?” Cas asks softly, burrowing into Dean’s good shoulder while staring ahead at the fire. The furs that once comprised Cas’ nest now provide warmth for their bed and Cas is thoroughly buried under them, much to Dean amusement.

Dean pulls him closer and presses a kiss into Cas’ hair. “Have you?” Dean purposefully dodges the question. His people have never allowed marriage between two men or two women. The purpose of marriage is to have children. Something he and Cas can never hope to accomplish.

The traditions of his people have very little bearing on what Dean _wants_ though.

He wants to bind himself to Cas in every way possible. Since that night in the forest where they shared so much pleasure before Dean nearly ruined everything, they’ve barely touched beyond nighttime snuggles and careful kisses.

Dean wants more, but he’s terrified of destroying this idyllic bubble they’ve found themselves in.

Cas shakes his head against Dean’s shoulder. “As a monk, marriage was never something I considered.”

Dean hums and takes a moment to mull over Cas’ words. “And now? Do you still consider yourself a monk?” Dean asks, internally cursing his stupidity. He doesn’t expect Cas to abandon his beliefs nor does he want him to.

Cas’ fingers toy with the lacing at the collar of Dean’s shirt, silently lost in thought. He takes his time answering and for a moment, Dean thinks he won’t say anything at all. “Sometimes…” Cas says before trailing off, “I trust God has a plan for me, but I have questions. I…I have doubts. I don’t know what I am anymore.”

Dean squeezes him closer and leaves another kiss atop Cas’ head. “You’re a good man, Cas. That’s what you are. Whether you still want to be a monk or not, you’re a good man. And you’re mine.”

Dean can feel Cas’ smile in the way his shoulders relax under Dean’s arm and Dean can’t help but smile himself.

They stare toward the fire for a few silent moments before Dean realizes he never answered Cas’ question. “I have thought about marriage,” Dean says before trailing off to gather the rest of his thoughts.

Cas pushes up enough to lift his head and look into Dean’s eyes with an expression he can’t quite identify. Cas licks his lips and Dean’s heart stutters at the sight of his pink tongue darting out and dragging across his too dry looking lips. Dean knows from experience those lips aren’t as dry as they look, they’re soft and pliable, perfect against his own.

Dean would very much like to lift his head and taste, suck that beautiful tongue into his mouth and ravish Cas until he’s writhing beneath him, but he won’t.

Not until Cas makes it clear what he wants.

Cas seems to be waiting for Dean to continue speaking. His blue eyes narrow and his brows furrow in a way that Dean has come to associate with insecurity.

Dean takes a deep breath. “I am an old bachelor. By all rights, I should have been married years ago but I never wanted to. But now,” Dean says, pausing for a breath, “now I look at you and feel my heart long for something I’ve never felt.”

Dean shifts and props himself on his elbow so he can meet Cas’ gaze directly. His stomach squirms under Castiel’s heavy stare but Dean can see the wariness begin to shift in Cas’ eyes. “I want to hold you in my arms, share this bed with you and no one else. For the rest of my life, I want you by my side.” Dean leans forward to place a smoothing kiss on Cas’ furrowed brow. “If I am to ever marry, I want it to be your hand in mine.”

A single tear wells in Cas’ eyes and seeps from the corner to roll down his cheek. Cas lips press into a flat line and Dean’s heart sinks. He’s said the wrong thing. Again. This is why he should keep his mouth shut.

“My religion does not allow men to marry men,” Cas says softly and Dean feels himself nodding without giving himself permission as his soul fractures. “But I believe those are the rules of man, not God. I cannot imagine any other than you by my side, Dean. Wedded or not.”

“Cas.” Dean’s heart swells and he surges forward to capture Cas’ lips with his own, patience be damned. He needs this, even if nothing more is to follow, he needs to feel the grounding touch of Cas’ mouth against his. They meet gently and Cas’ lips taste of mead from the wedding feast, making Dean moan and pull Cas closer. He eagerly licks the honeyed sweetness from his lips and goes back for more with a whimper.

Cas’ fingers thread through Dean’s hair as he pulls him ever closer and he moans into the kiss, gravel rough and needy. “Dean,” Cas says when he finally pulls away. His tone is desperate and his eyes are blown wide in a way that has Dean’s pulse racing. “I want,” he says before hesitating. “I want...”

Dean sucks in a breath and hopes he isn’t wrong. His fingers drift lower, skating across the front of Cas’ shirt and sneaking under the hem to feel the warm skin of Cas’ stomach. Cas lets out a gasp when Dean presses his hand flat to Cas’ stomach. His fingers creep lower, drifting below the waist of the loose pants Cas wears before stroking over his hip smoothly, offering the chance to either push forward or pull away.

Cas squirms and gasps under Dean’s touch and his hands quickly begin pulling at Dean’s shirt. “Dean,” he whines as he fights to get his hands onto Dean’s skin.

“What do you want, Cas?” Dean asks between kisses. He sits himself up with barely a wince and releases Cas just long enough to follow Cas’ demands and tug his shirt over his head. Cas stares hungrily at the broad expanse of Dean’s chest and Dean nearly squirms under the scrutiny.

Dean weakly tugs at the ties holding the collar of Cas’ shirt closed, silently asking. Cas smiles softly with a nod and pulls the garment over his head without hesitation.

Dean’s eyes widen at his first real glimpse of Cas with so few clothes. Cas swallows hard and shrinks back from Dean’s heavy stare but Dean cannot look away. Cas chest is firm and skin golden as if kissed by the sun. He’s lean and strong and absolute perfection.

Dean groans his appreciation before kissing a line across Cas’ jaw and down the column of his throat.

Cas lets out a breathless laugh at Dean’s enthusiasm and clutches at Dean’s hair, pushing into Dean’s touch.

“Cas, please. Can I?” Dean questions breathlessly as he moves to hover over Cas.

Cas tenses only slightly before chewing his lip and giving a hesitant nod. Dean wastes no time in pushing himself up and over, his knees now hugging Cas’ hips as he licks a trail across Cas’ collar bone and downward.

His fingertips ghost over Cas’ sides, each rib tangible and padded by a healthy layer of muscle that moves smoothly underneath Dean’s hands as Cas watches Dean carefully.

Dean traces each plane of firm muscle with his tongue, drifting lower and lower until he finds himself kissing down the faint trail of hair beneath Cas’ navel. “Cas, please,” Dean mutters against his skin as his fingers toy with Cas’ waistband.

Cas lifts his hips gingerly and allows Dean to tug his pants over his hips and down until Dean is tossing them aside and Cas lays bare before him.

Cas’ cheeks flush crimson and his gaze is wary yet undoubtedly interested as Dean looks his fill. Cas’ cock twitches under Dean’s gaze, already full and hardened, standing tall against the thatch of dark hair covering Cas’ groin.

“Let me?” Dean asks as he strokes a single finger down the length of Cas’ cock.

Cas shivers and nods, still biting his lip. “Dean,” He whimpers, voice small and unsure as he watches Dean cautiously.

Dean smiles gently. “Tell me if you want to stop,” He says as he nudges Cas’ knees apart so he can settle in the space between. Dean prays to the gods that Cas doesn’t ask him to stop. He wants nothing more than to feel the weight of Cas on his tongue and have his taste on his lips.

Dean’s cock stirs at the thought and demands consideration that Dean isn’t willing to give quite yet. “I want to make you feel good,” Dean whispers as he begs Cas with his eyes to allow him this.

Cas nods nervously, still abusing that poor lip.

Dean reaches up to free Cas’ swollen lip from his teeth and then draw Cas into a deep kiss as his fingers circle Cas’ length. “I will never hurt you, I promised,” Dean whispers against Cas’ lips, reminding him of the promise Dean had made long ago.

“I trust you,” Cas says softly with a gentle nod before Dean reclaims his lips.

Cas moans into the kiss and begins to relax as Dean slowly moves his hand over his cock, squeezing just enough around the head to make Cas gasp and buck.

Dean inches his way down Cas’ body, licking, sucking, nipping gently at Cas’ skin until he’s bracketed by Cas’ knees. Cas trembles faintly and lets out quiet gasps and whimpers as Dean works his hand over Cas’ cock and he lifts his head to watch as Dean continues to kiss lower.

“Dean?” Cas asks nervously with a furrowed brow. “What are you…” Cas starts to say but his words are bitten off with a curse when Dean wraps his lips around the head of his cock and sucks. “Dean!” Cas cries and drops his head back with parted lips.

Dean grins around Cas’ cock as he sinks lower, determined to pull more delicious sounds from the man.

Cas whimpers and his fingers clench in Dean’s hair, the tug nearly painful as Dean continues to suck and lick at Cas’ cock. His head bobs and stomach swoops when Cas trembles and his body tightens as if to keep himself still.

Cas’ quiet pants and gasps fill the room as Dean continues to work him with his mouth. Dean delights in having part of Castiel in his mouth, in having him in a way that Dean had never thought he would. The pull of Cas’ fingers in his hair is nearing perfection as Dean tightens his lips around Cas’ girth and pumps his head up and down.

“Dean, please,” Cas whines as his hips buck and his cock is shoved against the back of Dean’s throat hard enough to make him choke and sputter. Cas props himself up, wide-eyed, when Dean pulls back with a gasp. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to…”

Dean shakes his head with a smile and waves Cas off. “I liked it,” He says, voice rough and Cas narrows his eyes in clear skepticism.

Dean takes the opportunity of Cas watching him and licks a long stripe up Cas’ cock while watching Cas’ mesmerized expression through his eyelashes. Cas’ lips part and his eyes blow wide and dark with desire as Dean eagerly resumes his ministrations and his fingers curl around the sharp cut of Cas’ hips. 

Cas drops back with a drawn-out moan but his fingers remain clenched in the furs instead of where Dean wants them.

Dean blindly feels for Cas’ hand while he sinks low on Cas’ cock and swirls his tongue around the base, earning another whimper of pleasure from Cas. Eventually, he finds Cas’ hand and convinces him to release his white-knuckled grip on the bed and guides him to grip Dean’s hair once again.

Cas catches on and moves his other hand on his own and Dean takes a moment to guide Cas’ hands, trying to convince Cas to take control of this. He wants Cas to use him as he pleases, even if he chokes.

His stomach coils tightly when Cas seems to understand and presses Dean down slowly. Dean lets out a low moan of appreciation and Cas’ cock twitches hard at the vibrations.

Cas tenses below him and his back arches as Dean follows his guidance. “Dean, I…I…” Cas starts to say but his words are garbled and he lets out a drawn-out whine that turns into heavy pants as Dean hollows his cheeks and sucks around him.

Cas’ hips twitch and Dean’s eyes water as he struggles not to choke but soon enough, Cas is crying out and his cock kicks against the back of Dean’s throat as he tumbles over the edge.

Thick stripes of come coat Dean’s tongue and he struggles to swallow the bitter fluid. He moans and his stomach flutters as his mouth is filled, a deep sense of satisfaction washes over him as Cas falls lax beneath him.

Dean licks Cas clean and smiles when he pulls off to look into sated blue eyes and Cas’ sleepy smile.

“Dean,” Cas says softly, tone colored with wonder and disbelief.

Dean crawls up Cas’ body and draws him into a lazy kiss that has Cas moaning and breathless.

“But you,” Cas says, trailing off slightly as he reaches to palm Dean’s hard cock through the front of his pants.

Dean shrugs and leans back in for more delicious kisses but Cas pushes him off and quickly climbs over him.

“Let me,” Cas whispers as his fingers work to loosen the lacing of Dean’s pants.

Dean nods and lifts his hips when Cas urges him to. “Anything you want,” Dean mutters and lets himself relax against the bed.

Cas takes him in hand and slowly pumps his hand over Dean’s length, seemingly mesmerized at Dean’s happy hum and the pearl of precome that beads at the tip.

Dean bites his lip as he watches, afraid to move in case Cas loses his nerve.

Cas’ hand strokes over his length and it takes all of Dean’s resolve not to buck into the tight channel of Cas’ fist. Cas watches himself work with wide eyes and bottom lip pulled between his teeth in concentration as Dean gasps and whines.

The delightful pressure has Dean trembling with desire, the tendrils of pleasure reaching out through his veins until he can feel his toes start to curl and his mind feels weightless. “Cas!” Dean gasps when Cas leans forward and gives the head of Dean’s cock a tentative lick.

Cas does it again, the tip of his tongue tapping against the slit of Dean’s cock, and Dean throws his head back against his pillow as his back arches. “Please,” Dean begs as Cas licks a stripe up the length of Dean’s dick before pressing a kiss to the tip.

Cas’ lips part slightly, just enough to hesitantly wrap around the crown of Dean’s dick and he gives a gentle suck that has stars exploding behind Dean’s eyes. Dean lets out a strangled cry and wrenches the furs between his fingers. His hands hurt from how hard he squeezes, but he needs something to keep him grounded, to keep himself from bucking up into the wet heat of Cas’ mouth.

“I don’t know if I can...” Cas pulls away to mutter.

Dean lifts his head to meet Cas’ doubt clouded eyes. “You don’t have to,” Dean says, dying a little inside at his words. He wants, more than anything, to feel himself inside some part of Cas but he isn’t going to force anything. He will be content with his own hand if that is his option.

Cas swallows hard and nods. “I want to, but I’ve never,” he says before trailing off, “what if I’m not any good?”

Dean does his best to stifle his laugh at Cas’ ridiculous idea. “You will be.” Dean shakes his head. “Anything you do will be perfect.”

Cas huffs a disbelieving laugh and shakes his head before nodding. “Ok, just...tell me if I do something wrong.”

Dean nods, already knowing this will be the best he’s ever had simply because its Cas. Cas wraps his lips around the head of Dean’s cock once again and gives the barest of sucks before sinking down so slowly that Dean’s lungs burn from holding his breath.

His thighs quiver and his heart races as Cas slowly works his mouth over Dean’s shaft. Dean releases the bedding with one hand and rests his fingers lightly on Cas’ head, stroking his silky dark hair as gently as he can manage while the rest of his body tenses from the thrilling pleasure.

Cas hums at the touch and sucks just hard enough for the coil of tension low in Dean’s belly to tighten further and sink into his balls. He isn’t going to last. Not with Cas peering up at him through his lashes, the blue of his eyes barely visible, while he stretches his lips around Dean’s cock.

Dean drops his head back and sinks his fingers into Cas’ hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. “Doing so good,” Dean says softly, encouraging Cas when he feels his tentative rhythm falter.

Cas presses his tongue flat against the underside of Dean’s cock and Dean nearly sees stars as Cas begins to suck harder. Dean’s pleasure builds and crests, his entire body tingles with the simple joy and disbelief of having Cas in this way.

Cas bobs his head in earnest, gaining confidence as Dean continues to murmur gentle words of praise. Dean’s fingers tighten in Cas’ hair and Cas allows him to guide his motion. Up and down, swirling his tongue and pressing in all the right places as he goes.

“Cas, I’m close,” Dean says as his body goes taut. He presses Cas’ head down as far as he allows and a shiver runs down his spine, focusing and concentrating around the base of his dick. “I’m gonna…Cas!” Dean cries out just as his cock starts to buck.

Cas pulls off and wraps his fingers around Dean’s cock, stroking Dean through his climax. Thick globs of come coat Cas’ hand and Dean’s stomach as Cas watches with wide eyes.

Dean drops his head back against the pillow with a heavy sigh as the aftershocks begin to taper off and Cas releases his hold on him.

“Dean?” Cas asks, voice unsure. Dean lifts his chin to meet Cas’ gaze, intending to gesture for Cas to join him but his words die on his tongue when he sees Cas lift his come coated fingers to his lips.

Dean’s breath stills and his gaze darkens when Cas’ tongue darts between his lips to lick Dean’s mess from his finger. Cas’ nose wrinkles and Dean can’t help the snort of aborted laughter than forces it's way out. Cas glares weakly at Dean and leans over the bed to grab to Dean’s shirt to wipe his hand with.

Cas shakes his head. “Bitter,” He says in his native tongue but Dean doesn’t need to understand the word to know that Cas does not care for the taste.

Cas moves to wipe the mess from Dean’s stomach as Dean nods, certain that whatever the word means that it is an apt descriptor. “You don’t like it,” Dean says with a faint smile as he lets Cas clean him.

Cas shakes his head and then shrugs. “I think I will learn to.”

Dean grins inwardly even as he regards Cas with a serene smile. “That mean you want to do this again?” He asks, trying not to hope too hard. He’s still half terrified that Cas will decide to leave him when the raiding party heads south in the Spring.

Inias and Samandriel have already decided they wish to return home once the weather grows warm again. Sam will become the leader of their warriors now that Dean is Jarl, and he has already offered to take any of the monks who wish to travel with him.

Cas nods. “Yes. I want…” Cas trails off, his brows pinched as he searches for the right words. “I want more. With you. I...” Cas says and trails off again, gesturing his frustration.

Dean holds out a hand to urge Castiel to lay with him. Cas is beautiful in the glowing lamplight and Dean relishes the opportunity to look his fill. Shadows from the fire dance across Cas’ features and highlight the firm planes of muscle that shift under Cas’ smooth skin.

Cas crawls up the bed and snuggles into Dean’s waiting arms with a mild huff of annoyance. His Norse has gotten so good that these times when he cannot find the right word frustrate him to no end. Dean thinks he understands though, after what Cas has been through, what was done to him, he needs time and patience.

Two things Dean is certain he can give.

He presses a kiss into Cas’ hair and pulls him closer until Cas’ head is pillowed against Dean’s arm and Cas’ hand rests over Dean’s ribs. The heat from Cas’ bare skin has Dean sinking into comfortable bliss. “I love you, Cas,” Dean says softly as he stares at the ceiling. “I love you so much.” He squeezes Cas to him when he feels Cas tense and opens his mouth to speak.

Cas gives a slight snort and burrows his nose into Dean’s shoulder. “Dean,” He mutters softly but Dean shushes him.

“I want everything with you, when you’re ready.” Dean continues. “I don’t care what your god says, or what the laws of my people are. I want _you_ in whatever way you’ll have me.”

Cas nods against Dean’s shoulder and presses a chaste kiss to Dean’s skin. “You have me.” Cas pulls back to prop himself up on his elbow.

Dean smiles softly as his heart swells and stutters. “I’m talking forever, Cas. Not just for now. From the moment I saw you in the woods you’re all I’ve been able to think about.” Dean thinks back to the moment those blue eyes burned themselves into his soul.

Cas huffs and shakes his head with a scowl, obviously remembering that moment a little differently. “I thought you were going to kill me.”

Dean huffs something resembling a bitter laugh. “I almost did, on accident.” Dean is quick to assure. “I thought you were a deer.”

“A deer?” Cas arches a brow and stares with his mouth pressed into a flat line that exudes how unimpressed he is with Dean’s error.

Dean nods. “Your robes were brown and you were bent over, I was exhausted…”

Cas’ scowl cracks as Dean starts to ramble and breaks into a snort of laughter. “You thought I was a deer,” he says through the amusement in his voice.

“I’m sorry, Cas,” Dean says, cutting through Cas’ laughter with his serious words, finally getting back to what he wanted to say in the first place. His stomach twists nervously but he knows he needs to push the words past his insecurities and fear that Cas might decide to leave.

Cas deserves to hear them.

“I’m sorry for destroying the life you knew, for letting Alastair hurt you, for stealing you…” Dean pauses and swallows hard when he sees Cas’ blue eyes start to water. “I’m sorry for everything I’ve done that’s brought you pain. By all rights, you should want me dead and I,” Dean trails off and shakes his head, feeling a lump forming in his throat. “I’m so sorry for everything.”

Cas stares, eyes watering and he swallows hard with a frown. Dean’s pulse races as he waits, wanting to shrink in on himself when Cas starts chewing his lip with a jerky nod. “Thank you, Dean,” he says just as a stray tear escapes from the corner of his eye.

“I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I promise…” Dean starts but Cas puts a finger over his lips with a soft smile, demanding quiet.

“I forgive you, Dean. I forgave you months ago.” Cas smiles crookedly, one side of his mouth pulling up as he huffs through his nose.

Dean lets out a rush of breath and leans forward to capture Cas’ lips in a deep kiss. “Gods, Cas. Really?”

Cas nods and bites his lip with a restrained smile. “Yes, Dean,” Cas says, shaking his head. “You’re a good man. Righteous, kind, merciful.” Cas nods faintly and sucks in a sharp breath as he comes to a decision and meets Dean’s eyes. “Beautiful.” His cheeks redden and he looks down at where their fingers have been slowly becoming entangled and swallows hard. “I’m talking about forever too, I’m not leaving.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I agonized over the very ending for so long but I couldn't quite find what I was looking for. I hate to settle, but I hope it satisfies.
> 
> Thank you again and much love. Happy holidays!

**Author's Note:**

> Much love to all of you and thank you for reading. I adore hearing from you if you're so inclined.
> 
> I'm trying something new and being more active on Twitter as a writer. If you'd be interested in seeing what I'm up to, look for @grimmlin_fic


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